Classic Poem

The fool and fond of Mammon's leav'n
Has said it in his heart,
There is no God in Heav'n
To take fair virtue's part.

The worldly men themselves abuse,
In every course they run;
Forbidden things they chuse,
Nor is the needful done

The Lord came down from heav'n, and said
The heir they will revere—
But his report he made,
“My kingdom is not here.”

For all the race is gone astray
From Eden to the wild;
Not one to fast or pray,
Not one but is defil'd.

Their cursing throats are baleful deep,
Like sepulchres that yawn,
And aspick poisons steep
The lips with which they fawn.

In blasphemy their voice they lift,
Their mouths are fill'd with gall;
Their devious feet are swift
To work their neighbour's fall.

Ruin and wretchedness attend,
Their feet by Satan shod;
They have no peace or friend,
No fear or hope in God.

Have they no thought that they inure
Their souls to sin alone;
And grind my helpless poor,
And daily pray'r postpone?

Hence guilt in pow'r with terror shakes,
Ev'n when no dread is nigh,
For God himself betakes
To where the righteous cry.

The poor and meek they mock'd and scourg'd,
And crucified and slew—
“Forgive them, sire,” was urg'd,
“They know not what they do.”

Thus Christ has brought a change about,
And bore our sins away;
Let Israel's children shout,
And Jacob's banners play.