The Doctor.
[Goes towards him, looks at him, and shakes
his head.]
You seek, a day that is no more,
In one and all things to restore.
You think, God's venerable pact
With man is still a living fact;—
Each Age in its own way will walk;
Ours is not scared by nurses' talk
Of hell-bound soul and burning brand;—
Humanity's our first command!
Brand.
[Looking up.]
Humanity!—That sluggard phrase
Is the world's watchword nowadays.
With this each bungler hides the fact
That he dare not and will not act;
With this each weakling masks the lie,
That he'll risk all for victory;
With this each dastard dares to cloak
Vows faintly rued and lightly broke;
Your puny spirits will turn Man
Himself Humanitarian!
Was God "humane" when Jesus died?
Had <g>your</g> God then his counsel given,
Christ at the cross for grace had cried—
And the Redemption signified
A diplomatic note from Heaven.
[Hides his head, and sits in mute grief.
The Doctor.
[Softly.]
Rage, rage thy fill, thou soul storm-stress'd;—
Best were it for thee to find tears.
