APPENDIX XI. HOLY RUSSIA AND THE CURSED CRESCENT.
Reading edition
By A. Cleveland Coxe,[33]
Bishop of the Western Diocese of New York.
Trump of the Lord, I hear it blow; Forward the cross; the world shall know Jehovah's arm's against the foe. Down shall the cursed crescent go. To arms! To arms! God wills it so. God help the Russians—God bless the Czar, Shame on the swords that trade can mar, Shame on the laggards, faint and far, That rise not to the holy war. To arms! To arms! The Cross and Czar. How long, O Lord, for Thou art just, Vengeance is Thine, in Thee we trust Wake, arm of God, and dash to dust Those hordes of rapine and of lust. To arms! To arms! Wake swords that rust. Forward the Cross. Break, clouds of Ire, Break with the thunder and the fire, To new Crusades let Faith inspire, Down with the crescent to the mire. To arms! To arms! To vengeance dire.
The Bishop answered by Mr. W. Croffut.
Thou Man of God, who thus implore Thy brother's sacred blood to pour In hateful tides of turbid gore, From Dardanelles to Danube's shore. Be still! Be still! Blaspheme no more. God help the babes, God bless the wives; Shame on the priests that whet the knives, Shame on the Church whose altar thrives By wrecking peaceful peasants' lives. Be still! Be still! 'Tis hell that drives. How long, O Lord, before Thy shrine Shall men pray Vengeance, God, is Thine, Then worship Moloch as divine, And drink the battle's bloody wine? Be still! Be still! O heart of mine.