By F. M. Lehman.
Catholicism! thou proud and hauty BEAST!
How long wilt thou on bleeding victims feast?
Thy blackened trail of midnight years,
Is crimson-soaked with blood and tears,
The Priest-thy tool-with PURPLE stole,
Enchains the sense and damns the soul.
Great God! when will the Protestants awake
To kill this crawling, cursed, Roman snake?
Thy Hell-born creed has long the Christ withstood.
Thy lust-cut robes are dyed in martyr's blood.
Before thy gates are piles-of bones.
Within are sighs and muffled groans.
Both priest and nun-thy fallen tools
Make victims in thy cursed schools.
Thy, System, void of conscience, truth and heart,
Is unexcelled in depth and cunning art.
Within thy cloistered WALLS are living tombs
Where Virtues lovely flower scarce ever blooms.
SHE--humbled--in sublime disgrace.,
Yields to the Roman priest's embrace.
The priest-christ (?) and the virgin (?) nun,
Complete the sin the church begun.
The scapular, the crucifix and stole,
The dark confessional--all damn the soul.
That dark "hole in, the wall," what sin is there!
Where Rome's black hand has deftly laid the snare.
The vow, the veil-the afterpart
The stifled sob-the bleeding heart.
The longing for some bosom friend
A few short years and then the end.
The girl, once pure. and sweet, and passing fair,
Must die, or virtue robbed, in this dark lair.
SECLUSION hides the heinous crimes and sin,
Behind thy cloistered WALLS what woes within?
The priest-christ (?) and the virgin (?) nun
Let here their passions hot course run-
And then the ILLEGITIMATE,
Born but to meet thy crowning hate.
The finger tips on infant's nostril pressed
Forever stills the heart-beats in its breast.
Thy coils round legislative halls are wrapped.
With threat and gold the statesman is entrapped.
Thy sword is sheathed but votes are bought,
And truckling men by thee are sought
To thus work out the pope's demand
In homeland here and foreign strand
Foul monster thou, with cunning deep and strong,
Thy reign has run its cruel course too long.
0 Protestant, wake up! this Roman BEAST
Must be disturbed in this her vaunting feast!
Our battle-cry-Break down her walls!
Let loose her slaves! 'Tis justice calls!
Unfrock the priest, unrobe the nun!
This war on Rome must be won!
The monastaries and nunneries must go.
The WALLS around these hells must be laid low.