TO GOD'S ANOINTED AND HIS CHOSEN FLOCK:
So ran the phrase the black-robed conclave chose
To guard the sacred cloisters that arose
Like David's altar on Moriah's rock.
Unshaken still those ancient arches mock
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The ram's-horn summons of the windy foes
Who stand like Joshua's army while it blows
And wait to see them toppling with the shock.
Christ and the Church. Their church, whose narrow door
Shuts out the many, who if over-bold
Like hunted wolves were driven from the fold,
Bruised with the flails those godly zealots bore,
Mindful that Israel's altar stood of old
Where echoed once Araunah's threshing-floor.
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