Poems (Hoffman)/The False and the True
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THE FALSE AND THE TRUE.
Alone, alone, with my heart, alone with my heart to-night!
Was it an angel passing by swift in her vesture white,
Or a demon flashing an evil leer,
Bold in his blackness to venture near,
Haunting the place with a ghostish fear?
Was it an angel passing by swift in her vesture white,
Or a demon flashing an evil leer,
Bold in his blackness to venture near,
Haunting the place with a ghostish fear?
God is in Heaven to-night! Is He on earth?
Writhing in misery, reveling in mirth,
Man is on earth, O horrible man,
Under iniquity's terrible ban!
Go where he goeth to-night if you can.
Writhing in misery, reveling in mirth,
Man is on earth, O horrible man,
Under iniquity's terrible ban!
Go where he goeth to-night if you can.
Go where he goeth to-night, come not forever to tell
How thou hast trodden on earth, yes on earth, the veriest border of Hell,
Come not to tell me of man's awful blight,
That wrong in his breast is the victor of right,
I know it, I know it to-night!
How thou hast trodden on earth, yes on earth, the veriest border of Hell,
Come not to tell me of man's awful blight,
That wrong in his breast is the victor of right,
I know it, I know it to-night!
That evil, evil is king, and man but a trembling slave,
That evil passions have wrought his chains and darkness is digging his grave;
That on womanhood's crowned brow burneth a darker brand
Than the mark by which guilty Cain from the presence of God was banned;
Oh, the brand that is on her brow; oh, the blood that is on her hand!
That evil passions have wrought his chains and darkness is digging his grave;
That on womanhood's crowned brow burneth a darker brand
Than the mark by which guilty Cain from the presence of God was banned;
Oh, the brand that is on her brow; oh, the blood that is on her hand!
Why does the world not sink with its burden of guilt and woe,
Tottering on the abysmal brink of the chasm that yawns below?
Turn from the dens of vice with their gloom,
Come to the dwellings of virtue, come
To the house of God and the Christian home.
Tottering on the abysmal brink of the chasm that yawns below?
Turn from the dens of vice with their gloom,
Come to the dwellings of virtue, come
To the house of God and the Christian home.
Come where an angel kneels in prayer for the erring feet,
Whose voice is drowned by the noise that reels up from the drunken street;
Come where manhood and womanhood
Staunch through the dust of the fray have stood;
Thank God for the true and the good!
Whose voice is drowned by the noise that reels up from the drunken street;
Come where manhood and womanhood
Staunch through the dust of the fray have stood;
Thank God for the true and the good!