There are three preachers, ever preaching,
Fill'd with eloquence and power:--
One is old, with locks of white,
Skinny as an anchorite;
And he preaches every hour
With a shrill fanatic voice,
And a bigot's fiery scorn:--
"Backward! ye presumptuous nations;
Man to misery is born!
Born to drudge, and sweat, and suffer--
Born to labour and to pray;
Backward!' ye presumptuous nations--
Back!--be humble and obey!"
The second is a milder preacher;
Soft he talks as if he sung;
Sleek and slothful is his look,
And his words, as from a book,
Issue glibly from his tongue.
With an air of self-content,
High he lifts his fair white hands:
"Stand ye still! ye restless nations;
And be happy, all ye lands!
Fate is law, and law is perfect;
If ye meddle, ye will mar;
Change is rash, and ever was so:
We are happy as we are."
Mightier is the younger preacher,
Genius flashes from his eyes:
And the crowds who hear his voice
Give him, while their souls rejoice,
Throbbing bosoms for replies.
Awed they listen, yet elated,
While his stirring accents fall:--
"Forward! ye deluded nations,
Progress is the rule of all:
Man was made for healthful effort;
Tyranny has crush'd him long;
He shall march from good to better,
And do battle with the wrong.
"Standing still is childish folly,
Going backward is a crime:
None should patiently endure
Any ill that he can cure;
Onward! keep the march of Time,
Onward! while a wrong remains
To be conquer'd by the right;
While Oppression lifts a finger
To affront us by his might;
While an error clouds the reason
Of the universal heart,
Or a slave awaits his freedom
Action is the wise man's part.
"Lo! the world is rich in blessings:
Earth and Ocean, flame and wind,
Have unnumber'd secrets still,
To be ransack'd when you will,
For the service of mankind;
Science is a child as yet,
And her power and scope shall grow,
And her triumphs in the future
Shall diminish toil and woe;
Shall extend the bounds of pleasure
With an ever-widening ken,
And of woods and wildernesses
Make the homes of happy men.
"Onward!--there are ills to conquer,
Daily wickedness is wrought,
Tyranny is swoln with Pride,
Bigotry is deified,
Error intertwined with Thought,
Vice and Misery ramp and crawl;--
Root them out, their day has pass'd;
Goodness is alone immortal;
Evil was not made to last:
Onward! and all earth shall aid us
Ere our peaceful flag be furl'd."--
And the preaching of this preacher
Stirs the pulses of the world.