p. 72 | HIS MASTERPIECE by W. T. Helms

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Dec 5, 1892

HIS MASTERPIECE.

By W. T. Helms

BY REV. W. T. HELMS.

WHOSE masterpiece? not mine; not man's, in fact; But his, that Wicked, who, to counteract The work good men, God helping, here have done In building up our land of Washington, Transforms himself, the artful prince of night, Into a day god, decked in starry light, And champions the cause of Liberty and Right.

Your fathers, says he, built a temple grand, A home for the oppressed of ev'ry land; But in their building strangely left unset A central pillar—you must have it yet. God in your Constitution recognize; Your nation "Christian" hasten to baptize; For surely here alone your path of safety lies.

See how the wily serpent works his plan, Bad men controls—the good where'er he can; His logic, subtle poison, down they quaff, And angels weep, but demons only laugh To see how well their chieftain's masterpiece Works on the public pulse. Enough of these, And Congress to his pleasure bends its pliant knees.

You who to heed this leader are inclined, Not wisting what he is, and what behind The show of good of evil lies concealed, Or what, the false light gone, would be revealed, Oh, think to what proportions we have grown! A fraction late, this continent we own; The path of wisdom is, Let well enough alone.

Let no hand move to mend what has been done By patriot hands, approved by Washington. How can a soulless thing a Christian be? Is't not enough to boast that we are free? God asks for hearts to recognize his claim, For holy lips to spread abroad his fame, And men, not kingdoms now, to wear the Christian name.

—The Cottage Pulpit.