Though thorny the pathway 'neath our feet, Though nothing in life be left that's sweet; Though friends prove faithless in trial's hours And love a curst and poisonous flower; Though Belial stalk in priestly gown And virtue's reward is fortune's frown; Though true hearts bleed and the coward slave Tramples in dust the fallen brave; Think not the unworthy acts of men Will 'scape the recording angel's pen; The sword of God, in ruin and wraith, Will surely fall! Oh, cling to thy faith! Though worldly wise say it cannot be That there's a heaven for thee and me; Though logic's banner they have unfurled And by its cold light now view the world, Calling High God to the courts of man To be judged by human reason's span, And failing to grasp the power divine Will blindly assert: "It doth not shine"; Thy mother was wiser far than they In twilight hour when she knelt to pray, A radiant light on her sweet face From Eternal God's high dwelling-place. Lo here! lo here th' false prophets cry, Pointing out new paths unto the sky, Far pleasanter than our fathers trod With bleeding feet in the fear of God; While Atheists laugh our faith to scorn, And say that no man of woman born Ever pierced the evil or caught a gleam Of the mystic land beyond life's stream; That our fondest hopes, our prayers and sighs For life eternal beyond the skies, Are superstitions conceived in fear And cherished by priest and lying seer. The martyr's blood, the penitent's tears, The inspired word of Judea's seers, The name of God on the sacred mount, The river that poured from rocky fount In the burning sands beneath the rod, Obedient to the will of God; The prayers and sighs in Gethsemane, The red tide gushing on Calvary, The radiant smile when life is done Of saint that tells that heaven is won-- Shall we say 'tis all a priestly lie And like soulless beasts lie down to die? Ah, better 'twould be to ride in mail A weary quest for the Holy Grail; Wield Saxon steel 'gainst Saracen sword Around the sepulcher of our Lord; See Cross and Crescent and mailed hand All plashed with blood in that sacred land, Than doubt that heaven e'er shed its light Deep into this world's long troublous night; That God hears our prayers, knows all our pains, That earthly sorrows are heavenly gains, That the grave's the gate to lasting life, Unsullied by sorrow, pain and strife.