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X.

99.
Where now that faith? Where that strong living law
Which gave the new-born faith vitality—
That martyrdom of self, in which men saw
The vision of a new humanity?—
The law, down-trampled in the strife for pelf,
That each should love his neighbour better than himself?

100.
"Be not ye called Rabbi"—From the tomb
Of him who spake the voice still seems to rise;
Yet Christian rabbis throughout Christendom
Flaunt as of old their broad phylacteries;
And Jewish pomp and pride, denounc'd in vain,
In Christian pride and pomp prolong their baleful reign.

101.
"Lay not up treasures on the earth, the need
The morrow brings the morrow shall supply."
Spurning the Christian mandate, Christian greed
With covetous hands its gains hoards eagerly;
Of that first twelve who formed the Christian fold
Our best exampler he who sold his Lord for gold.

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102.
Where is the "Peace on Earth" which angels sang
In pæons to the new-born reign of right?—
Whilst throughout Christendom the ceaseless clang
Of arms proclaims the savage rule of might;
And art and seience and mechanic skill
Still prostitute their powers to teach men men to kill.

103.
Is Christ, like great Pan, dead? Does naught remain
But speculative dogmas, formal creeds,
Poor parodies on faith—content with vain
And vapid words, instead of valid deeds?—
Each wrangling sect deeming its shiboleth
A passport into heaven beyond the gates of death.

104.
Is Christ for ever dead? or shall he come
Again, as once believ'd the saints of old;
And we still say that we believe—the sum
And end of human life and death t' unfold?
While countless millions, rising from the tomb,
The dead of all the ages, wait their final doom.

105.
Yes! Christ shall come again; is coming ever
In ceaseless resurrection in man's soul
Of that divine philosophy which never
Time shall obliterate or death control;
But like some gracious herb shall ever spread
Enriching still the soil on which its seeds are shed.

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106.
Faintly the voice of earth's vast multitude
Back-echoing from a distant age is heard,
Rejoicing in humanity renewed
In that fair type which once on earth appear'd;
If not in human form Christ ris'n again,
Yet in the life of all the human race to reign,

107.
Oh! golden age of innocence and peace,
The poet's dream, millenium of the blest,
When envy, with its first-born strife, shall cease,
And care no longer gnaw the human breast;
The human race resting in calm old age
The out-come of its long mysterious pilgrimage.