I saw the Son of Heaven prostrate then,
Before the pow’r of opium specie prone,
Helpless to heal the people in his ken
With spirit-potency from heaven’s throne.
I see all Europe’s craven rulers now
And sov’reign peoples flooded in to town;
And will salvation come? To greed all bow,
Not knowing how in death’s passion they drown.
And once the black king of the south did rise
Condemning, once Hawai‘ian island queen
Bear witness to the crimes, high pity’s cries,
To heaven’s judgement. And has heaven seen?
O lawless! think you now that none will see
Your niente fatto? You will have no plea.
A D.C. editor writes about piety and society, with one eye on the past and the other on the future, and both eyes on the sovereign purposes of God.
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