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     The homeless and the outcast, fettering down
The tasked and plundered slave!

Pilate and Herod, friends!
     Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine!
Just God and holy! is that church, which lends
     Strength to the spoiler, thine?

Paid hypocrites, who turn
     Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book
Of those high words of truth which search and burn
     In warning and rebuke;

Feed fat, ye locusts, feed!
     And, in your tasselled pulpits, thank the Lord
That, from the toiling bondman's utter need,
     Ye pile your own full board.

How long, O Lord! how long
     Shall such a priesthood barter truth away
And in Thy name, for robbery and wrong
     At Thy own altars pray?

Is not Thy hand stretched forth
     Visibly in the heavens, to awe and smite?
Shall not the living God of all the earth,
     And heaven above, do right?

Woe, then, to all who grind
     Their brethren of a common Father down!
To all who plunder from the immortal mind
     Its bright and glorious crown!

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Herod (1)
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