Do Men gather Figs from Thistles?
O christ in heaven, if thou leanest o'er
The battlements and lookest down below,
And seest the men who claim to love thee so,
Is not thy gentle soul with pity sore?
Thy Church banns honest thought; and evermore
Goes up, through firm white lips, a cry of woe
From true men, cursed because they seek to know,
And dare to knock at Truth's unopened door.
“Dare not to question what the past has said!”
So cry the priests: “Say you accept the creeds,
Though honest thought cry shame! Then lofty place
And honor! Else, name-slandered, e'en thy bread
Shall fail!” So, from thine altar, o'er his beads,
Looks out Hypocrisy with leering face.
The battlements and lookest down below,
And seest the men who claim to love thee so,
Is not thy gentle soul with pity sore?
Thy Church banns honest thought; and evermore
Goes up, through firm white lips, a cry of woe
From true men, cursed because they seek to know,
And dare to knock at Truth's unopened door.
“Dare not to question what the past has said!”
So cry the priests: “Say you accept the creeds,
Though honest thought cry shame! Then lofty place
And honor! Else, name-slandered, e'en thy bread
Shall fail!” So, from thine altar, o'er his beads,
Looks out Hypocrisy with leering face.
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