Mark well this parable. In chosen ground Only good seed a husbandman had sown, Yet when the blade sprang up, therewith he found Tares that amid the stifled wheat had grown. Then knew he well, how, entering unawares, This, while men slept, an enemy had done. And 'tis an enemy who, scattering tares Amid the corn sown in Creation's field, With deadly coil the growing plant ensnares. And no mean enemy, nor one unsteeled For bold defiance, nor reduced to cower Ever in covert ambuscade concealed, But at whose hest the ravening hell-hounds scour A wasted world, while himself prowls to seek, Like roaring lion, whom he may devour, And upon whom his rancorous wrath to wreak, Sniffing the tainted steam of slaughter's breath, And lulled by agony's despairing shriek. For it is he who hath the power of death, Even the devil, by whom entereth sin Into the world, and death engendereth: Yea! by whom entereth whatsoe'er within Warreth against the spirit,--sordid greed, Pride, carnal lust, envy to lust akin, And malice, and deceit, whose treacheries breed Strife between brethren, and the faith o'erthrow Of many, and the duped deserters lead, Beneath the banner of their deadliest foe, In rebel arms a Parent to defy, Whom, by His gifts alone, His children know. 'Not less that Parent marks with pitying eye The blinded rage that rivets its own chain: Not less to His own glorious liberty Seeks, from corruption's bondage, to regain His erring children,--by device, or lewd, Or threatening, lured, or goaded to their bane: Not less to overcome evil with good Labours, and shall therewith all things subdue Unto Himself--but hath not yet subdued. And wherefore? wherefore tarrieth He, while through Eden, by daring foray oft defaced, Marauding fiends malignant raid pursue, Winging the turbid whirlwind's frantic haste, Pointing the levin's arrowy effluence, Over the mildewed harvest's hungry waste, Breathing the fetid breath of pestilence, And crying havoc to the dogs of war, Let slip on unresisting innocence? Why suffereth He that thus a rival mar His cherished work--through devastated fields Borne on triumphant in ensanguined car?-- Him, who with power to rescue, tamely yields His helpless charge to persecuting hate, Nor His own offspring from the torturer shields, But sits aloof, callously obdurate, While but the will is lacking to redeem,-- Him, how shall fitting stigma designate?