Until when, O Lord? Until when shall the reptiles of disdain spew forth clamorous lies and proclaim their righteousness?
Until when shall the indolent sleep on the dank clumps of clay, as the wails of the innocent in the bowels of the earth beneath their ear simmer the morning dew into baneful vapor? Nay-nigh is the day that the insensate shall polish their silver coin of comfort and behold the misshapen mien of sloth and self-deceit? Nay-nigh the hour of the bell of tocsin?
Doth the Lord of Mercy stay His hand unto the day of barren time? asks the child.
Doth the Spirit of Peace withhold Its healing breath from the scars of anguish? asks the mother.
Nay! says the faithful. Even though His saints and prophets are scorned, and the indolent are blind to His love, yet if there be a true believer, the Lord of Light shall abandon not the fire in his hearth.
Nay! thus again says the faithful. The Lord of Mercy hath hear'd the peep of the injured chick of the sparrow, and the Prince of Peace shall scythe the vulture's charge. Shall I allow the chaff of insolence into My holy granary? saith the Lord. Nay, for precious to Me is this golden wheat, and a thousand suns shall breathe cold 'fore a single grain of blight blemishes My treasured harvest.
Lift ye, therefore, thy eyes to high heaven and thy hearts to the Lord in praise and prayer, for His eye doth behold wickedness in the darkness of the bowels of the earth, and His ear magnifieth the whisper of the true and the faithful. Cast is His word, and His sword is bared.