IT’S righteousness which doth exalt,
And sin that bringeth low;
And when the sinner owns his fault
He’ll to his Maker go.
Remember then, ye British folk
What once your people were
Beneath the cruel Romish yoke,
And with that state compare
The honour that these islands had,
The progress that they made,
Till well-nigh all the world was glad,
And homage to them paid.
Those were the days when God was
owned;
Men read and loved His Word:
And, on the Sabbath, preachers sound
Wielded the Spirit’s sword;
The first day of the week was kept,
God’s precepts were obeyed,
Men prayed ere they lay down and
slept,
And when they rose they prayed.
The wide world o’er they were
renowned
As honest, true, and just;
And where a British man was found,
In him folk put their trust.
Alas, alas! those days are past,
The Holy Word’s unread,
Upon it more than doubt is cast—
‘Tis “fable,” it is said.
The day of rest, ‘s not holi-day,
But holi-day become;
“The work’s so strenuous,” they say,
“Men can’t abide humdrum.”
And so, forsooth, they take their rest
On river, road, or rail,
As it may suit their fancy best,
And shame forbids detail.
“My word’s my bond,” a man may say,
And straightway prove it’s not;
In this and many another way
The honest way’s forgot.
But first within the nation’s church
Corruption had full sway;
“Priests,” by deceit, their cloth
besmirch,
And travel the broad way.
All the corruptions once cast out
By God-sent men of old
Are all these “priests” now care about;
In law-breaking they’re bold.
Wafers and images abound,
Virgin and saints adored,
But rarely can a man be found
Whose heart is gospel-stored.
And God, Who made our nation great,
Because we honoured Him,
In love, long warned us of our fate—
Our light’s been growing dim.
And now, one last and heavy blow,
By war, He sends to call
Us to the way we used to go,
When He was “All in all.”
The nation’s church must first be
cleaned
Ere God will hear our cry;
The people from their “pleasure”
weaned
Must to their Saviour fly.
It is because God is despised
We’re held in light esteem.
For if He and His Word were prized
His smile on us would beam.
But God will not be on our side,
Nor give us victory,
Till we approach Him without pride
In deep humility.
And when the rulers of the State,
And people thus implore,
Then He Who made our nation great
Our greatness will restore.
Rise, Britain! now, and own thy fault,
Repent, and turn to God.
Ask Him this people to exalt
Who own His chastening rod.
Newbury, 31st October, 1915.
A. W. NEATE.
* These verses are reprinted from the Protestant Observer at a friend’s request.—ED.