Lines From A Letter To A Young Clerical Friend

A strength Thy service cannot tire,     A faith which doubt can never dim,     A heart of love, a lip of fire,     O Freedom's God! be Thou to him!     Speak through him words of power and fear,     As through Thy prophet bards of old,     And let a scornful people hear     Once more Thy Sinai-thunders rolled.     For lying lips Thy blessing seek,     And hands of blood are raised to Thee,     And on Thy children, crushed and weak,     The oppressor plants his kneeling knee.     Let then, O God! Thy servant dare     Thy truth in all its power to tell,     Unmask the priestly thieves, and tear     The Bible from the grasp of hell!     From hollow rite and narrow span     Of law and sect by Thee released,     Oh, teach him that the Christian man     Is holier than the Jewish priest.     Chase back the shadows, gray and old,     Of the dead ages, from his way,     And let his hopeful eyes behold     The dawn of Thy millennial day;     That day when lettered limb and mind     Shall know the truth which maketh free,     And he alone who loves his kind     Shall, childlike, claim the love of Thee