A CRY FROM CHRISTENDOM.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XVII, Issue 69, 10 April 1882, Page 3

A CRY FROM CHRISTENDOM.

Whose ear is so dull in its deafness , whose heart is as callous and cold, As to turn from the cry of the wronged, ringing forth as so often of old, ; Though uplifted by alien lips ? Or what matter whence under Heaven the piteous plaint cometh forth ; As of late from the plains of the East, as today from the snows of the North, Sable-shadowed, with Hate's dark eclipse ? • Stay question of rape or of creed, let the spirit of Party shrink mute, Whilst a greater than it standeth forth, and espouseth the suppliant's suit. In imperative accents and stern ; Tor the things that are told in her ears, and in ours, are the records of shame, ; Black stories of slaughter and lust, make the check of the coldest to flame, And the heart of the gentlest to hum. : " Hepl Hep !"— the old cry haH gone Jforti, and the Hebrew is hounded again | Iq the name of the CroBS. • Can it be that its tenderest teachings, are vain, Where its merciful rule is men's boast ? Ob, out on the Tartuffes of Creed 1 Let the Spirit of Christendom speak • ; Plain words of unfaltering truth for the cause of the helpless and weak, In the teeth of brate Tyranny's ho3t Fop the wise of the earth are but fools, and its mighty but little of soul, The Teuton's grim, truculent Chief, striding on to bis coveted goal, Would trample a people as dust ; And the Muscovite, mounting the name of humanity, closes his ears To the waits from the homes he has wrecked, to the pleading of women in tears, nTrotn the revels of murder and hist No respecter of race or of faith, let Humanity lift up her plea, Like a Portia who pleads for the Jew, since the wronged and hated is he [past. Who so hated and wronged in the Put aside all the pitiful plaints, the reproaches, half malice, half fear, When the frenzy of rancour is stil'ed 'twill he time for cool reason to hear, And for Justice to settle at last. But the horrible rage of brute hordes by the slack hand of Power let slip, The cold Mephistopheles smile on Authority's cynical lip— Tbeae Christendom fearlessly brands; Tells emperor, prince, or dull peasant 'lia playing a ruffian part To share in such revela of shame, with the throb of black hats in the heart, And the red stain of blood on the hands. — Punch.