Good and Evil.

GOOD hath been born of Evil many times,
As pearls and precious ambergris are grown-

Fruits of disease, in pain and sickness sown; Nations have won their liberty through crimes, And men true gain of losses: GOD alone, Unreachable upon His holy throne,

Needeth not shade to illustrate His light,

Nor less to foil His greatest: but for man

The wrong must riot to awake the right,
And patience grow of pain, as day of night,
And wisdom end what woesome harm began;

And think not to unravel in thy thought

This mingled tissue, this mysterious plan,

This alchemy of good through evil wrought.

Strange Attributes.

VENGEANCE, and jealousy, and wrath are Thine :

Can these things be indeed, most loving LORD,

Or have we spoilt the beauty of thy word
By names so dark for attributes divine?
-Yet must true justice vindicate the right,
And scatter wrong in well-avenging might,
Chastising, not revenging: yet must Love

Most fondly claim that every heart should beat

As its own bliss for only GoD above:

Yet must some moral fire, some holy heat,

Pervade the Will that else were wilfulness:

Those words are well; He doth avenge the wrong, His love is jealous thee by love to bless,

And sin shall rouse His wrath, though suffering long.




MAN's inhumanity to Man!

Oh hideous tale to tell,

What cheek unblanch'd can calmly scan

Those characters of hell?

What pen, what poet, dares to paint

The terrors of that strife,

Wherein so many a martyr'd saint

Has moan'd away his life?


O Roman friars,-Spanish priests,

Ye wretched cruel men,

More bloody than infuriate beasts

Half-famish'd in their den,—

How dreadful are the human woes
Your secret vaults have seen,-

GOD's patient vengeance only knows

What horrors there have been!


And, Slavery human nature's shame,

The curse of human-kind,

How hateful is thy very name

To ear, and heart, and mind!

The sugar-mill, the cotton-field,

The lash, the goad, the chain,Alas! how huge a crop they yield

Of wickedness and pain!


And, here at home, let childhood's shriek,

On coalpit echoes borne,―

And starving woman's hollow cheek

In city streets forlorn,—

And mean oppression's heavy hand

On patient merit's head,

Ask everywhere throughout the land,
-Whither has Mercy fled?


Yet is there comfort: GoD above

Long-suffering doth not sleep;

He treasures up with tenderest love
The tears of those who weep;

Holy, and Merciful, and Strong,
Be sure, His glorious Might
For all oppression, pain, and wrong

Will righteously requite!

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