Through
Western lands in days of old
Rivers clear
and sparkling flowed
Through
channels dug by Apostles and Disciples bold,
And their
head was found at God’s own throne.
Along these
streams Christian kingdoms sprang,
And for many
years bore good fruit.
But through
carelessness of soul
And
craftiness of Foe
Guilefully
working through bishops, princes, monks,
The bright
waters were darkened and defiled
And in time
ceased to flow at all.
The lovely
Tree o’ the Cross by Apostles planted
Was either
hewed or left untended,
But the new
shrines of Mammon
Could in no
wise be offended.
Yet as lands
of Occident have grown parched
And insanity
has descended on their folk,
Having made their
home in concrete Babylons,
Th’ old
channels are slowly ope’d again by men of Orient.
But has
Western man become too proud to kneel,
Too rational
and hygienic
To let his
body touch the dirt of ground
To reach
that blessèd drink?
--
Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England,
South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð,
unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!
No comments:
Post a Comment