Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/397

 God of this grievous people, wrought After the likeness of their race, By faces like thine own besought, Thine own blind helpless, eyeless face, I too, that have nor tongue nor knee For prayer, I have a word to thee.

It was for this then, that thy speech Was blown about the world in flame And men's souls shot up out of reach Of fear or lust or thwarting shame— That thy faith over souls should pass As sea-winds burning the grey grass?

It was for this, that prayers like these Should spend themselves about thy feet, And with hard overlabored knees Kneeling, these slaves of men should beat Bosoms too lean to suckle sons And fruitless as their orisons?

It was for this, that men should make Thy name a fetter on men's necks, Poor men made poorer for thy sake, And women withered out of sex? It was for this, that slaves should be, Thy word was passed to set men free?

The nineteenth wave of the ages rolls Now deathward since thy death and birth. Hast thou fed full men's starved-out souls? Hast thou brought freedom upon earth? Or are there less oppressions done In this wild world under the sun?