  Idolatry is born of Ignorance; Its sire is Fear, and cruel are its bands; Cunning and Greed come forward to advance Its many claims; the tyrant understands It gives him consequence when he commands, And helps to keep his subjects dull and weak; The priest upholds it with his crafty hands, And by it keeps himself both fat and sleek, With conscience tenfold harder than his brassy cheek. Idolatry has human thought defiled, And filled the heart of man with groundless fear; It likens God unto the chieftain wild, Whose will is absolute and rule austere— Who scatters curses with a hand severe On all who do not choose to bow and praise, Bestowing gifts on those who may appear By word or deed, or both, his power to raise, Regardless of their merits or their wicked ways. The poor idolator expects to gain In special favors from the god he owns; He mouths his prayers expecting to obtain Some kind of blessing through his pleading tones, While bowing low upon his marrow-bones, And has no thought of principle or law; He thinks his very abjectness atones For all offenses, and he stands in awe Lest he offend the priest who smites him with his jaw. Idolatry but feeds the soul on stones, And makes it fear the living and the dead; It worships arbitrary power in bones From which all power to harm or bless has fled; It puts a halo round some dead man's head And worships him as one whose blood atones For all the sins the human race hath bred; It fills the air with hideous wails and groans, With genuflexions that the most abjectness owns. The gods are many which the world adores; They may be stocks and stones, or creeds and books, Or saints or heroes; there are many scores Of idols, both of good and evil looks, To which the idol-serving worldling crooks The favor-seeking hinges of the knee; And then audaciously he freely brooks Disfavor of the many gods, that he May serve at Mammon's shrine and roll in luxury! The known and unknown gods are set aside When Mammon's glitt'ring chariot rolls along; The churches all adore the pomp and pride Of Mammon's blazing cortege; weak and strong Join in his train, unconscious of a wrong, And all the gods are chained unto his car; The "Unknown God" may get their Sunday song— On other days he's worshiped from afar! But, next to Mammon, men adore the god of war. Or saints, or books, or images, or cross, No matter what the object worshiped be, 'Tis all the same—idolatrous and gross; It may be done in all sincerity, Or only done in base hypocrisy, As is the fancy of the worshiper; Both classes bend the superstitious knee, Hoping their god his favors will confer, Howe'er the supplicant in life and tho't may err! There is no efficacy in what's done By way of worship; all is empty show, External form; in not a single one Does it inspire a strong desire to go The straight and narrow path of duty. No, Not e'en the most benighted devotee— The most sincere idolater we know— Conforms his daily conduct so that he Shall realize the prayer of his idolatry. All worship is an inconsistent sham— An echo from the thrones of earthly kings, Who have the power to either bless or damn Their subjects of this world in worldly things; It will be fostered in the church, which brings A living fat for wily ministers, As long as folks will wear their leading-strings; But when the blood of independence stirs Men's hearts, they'll cease to bow as idol-worshipers. So long as thoughtless men deceive their souls With vague conjectures that a wordy prayer Their destiny beyond the graveyard moulds, When breathed aloud into the empty air, To some unknown mysterious being there, Their conduct will be inconsistent, mad; Reason and common sense will have no share In guiding them to action, and the sad Results will only to the world's confusion add. How very low and groveling is this, And reeking with the very fumes of hell! As if mankind could win immortal bliss By idle words and forms, in which can dwell No kind of virtue, no exalting spell! Let men but reason and they must behold That righteous living here alone can tell In raising human destiny. The bold In thought and action the most rapidly unfold. But some day men will learn that law supreme, Unchanging and unerring, rules us all; That there is neither low nor high extreme Where special favors unto men may fall, Or privilege be granted at the call Of homage-giving beings who desire To gain advantage, be it great or small; That selfishness can never raise men higher. And only deeds of good can aid those who aspire. Throw creeds and books and churches to the winds, Save as they furnish food for human thought; Shun every subtle manacle that binds The human reason—'tis with evil fraught; Bow not to books, nor saviors, nor aught But Truth and Justice and the love of Good; With these alone can be salvation bought; It was for these the Nazarene once stood— In these must every soul find its redemption food. |
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