Is this Thy justice, O Father, that guile be easier than innocence, and
the innocent crucified for the guilt of the untouched guilty?
  Justice, O judge of men!

Wherefore do we pray?  Is not the God of the fathers dead?  Have not seers seen in Heaven’s halls Thine hearsed and lifeless form stark amidst the black and rolling smoke of sin, where all along bow bitter forms of endless dead?
  Awake, Thou that sleepest!

Thou art not dead, but flown afar, up hills of endless light, thru blazing corridors of suns, where worlds do swing of good and gentle men, of women strong and free—­far from the cozenage, black hypocrisy and chaste prostitution of this shameful speck of dust!
  Turn again, O Lord, leave us not to perish in our sin!

From lust of body and lust of blood
  Great God, deliver us!

From lust of power and lust of gold,
  Great God, deliver us!

From the leagued lying of despot and of brute,
  Great God, deliver us!

A city lay in travail, God our Lord, and from her loins sprang twin Murder and Black Hate.  Red was the midnight; clang, crack and cry of death and fury filled the air and trembled underneath the stars when church spires pointed silently to Thee.  And all this was to sate the greed of greedy men who hide behind the veil of vengeance!
  Bend us Thine ear, O Lord!

In the pale, still morning we looked upon the deed.  We stopped our ears and held our leaping hands, but they—­did they not wag their heads and leer and cry with bloody jaws:  Cease from Crime!  The word was mockery, for thus they train a hundred crimes while we do cure one.
  Turn again our captivity, O Lord!

Behold this maimed and broken thing; dear God, it was an humble black man who toiled and sweat to save a bit from the pittance paid him.  They told him:  Work and Rise.  He worked.  Did this man sin?  Nay, but some one told how some one said another did—­one whom he had never seen nor known.  Yet for that man’s crime this man lieth maimed and murdered, his wife naked to shame, his children, to poverty and evil.
  Hear us, O Heavenly Father!

Doth not this justice of hell stink in Thy nostrils, O God?  How long shall the mounting flood of innocent blood roar in Thine ears and pound in our hearts for vengeance?  Pile the pale frenzy of blood-crazed brutes who do such deeds high on Thine altar, Jehovah Jireh, and burn it in hell forever and forever!
  Forgive us, good Lord; we know not what we say!

Bewildered we are, and passion-tost, mad with the madness of a mobbed and mocked and murdered people; straining at the armposts of Thy Throne, we raise our shackled hands and charge Thee, God, by the bones of our stolen fathers, by the tears of our dead mothers, by the very blood of Thy crucified Christ:  What meaneth this? Tell us the Plan; give us the Sign!
  Keep not thou silence, O God!