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“SMITE, smite, and spare them not; | |
| Let them decay and rot | |
| There in the dungeon, where the mire is deep: | |
| Curs’d be the lips that say | |
| Our Law shall pass away, | 5 |
| And God’s eternal day | |
| Shed the clear light of truth on blinded souls that sleep. | |
| |
| “Thou servest Israel’s Lord; | |
| Take the sharp two-edged sword, | |
| Let the earth drink the vile apostate’s blood; | 10 |
| He trusts an empty dream, | |
| His lips our Book blaspheme; | |
| To him our customs seem | |
| Things of the past, outworn, but dimly understood. | |
| |
| “We to that past adhere, | 15 |
| The onward path we fear, | |
| We keep the faith for which our fathers bled; | |
| We will not yield one jot, | |
| Let zeal be fierce and hot, | |
| Smite them, and spare them not, | 20 |
| Till they their faith deny, or lie among the dead.” | |
| |
| So spake they, Scribe and Priest, | |
| From greatest to the least, | |
| Yet strove in vain to check the march of Truth: | |
| But onward still she moved, | 25 |
| Or hated or beloved, | |
| To God and man approved, | |
| Gathering her champions true, grey eld or bright-eyed youth. | |
| |
| And so in every age | |
| The selfsame war we wage, | 30 |
| Our Master calls us thus to win His praise: | |
| Our foes are active still, | |
| And, as we mount the hill, | |
| Their cries our senses thrill, | |
| And oft the Spirit fails, and oft the footstep strays. | 35 |
| |
| Fear not, O Scholar mine, | |
| But on to Truth’s fair shrine, | |
| They cannot stop thee, shall not turn thee back; | |
| Be brave, but pity too, | |
| They know not what they do, | 40 |
| Perchance thy prayer may woo | |
| The nobler, purer souls to follow on thy track. | |
| |
| So is the victory won, | |
| Ere sets thy spirit’s sun; | |
| Dim eyes look out with martyr’s steadfast faith; | 45 |
| The promise shall not fail, | |
| The truth shall yet prevail, | |
| Our souls her triumph hail, | |
| Love casting out all fear and life o’erpowering death. | |
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