What Owest Thou

February, 1915

In blood bought Belgian trenches, On stormy Northern Sea, Brave hearts of oak are watching, Protecting you and me.

The British wife and mother, The maid with sweetheart dear, Lest those they love should falter Hold back the scalding tear.

"Your King and Country need you," They say with courage high. "Your fathers, too, were soldiers; And not afraid to die."

Like fearless free born Britons, Not Kaiser driven slaves, Go heroes from the homeland To unmarked foreign graves.

Shall we, with path made easy, While others fight and fall, In freedom's hour of danger Neglect the Empire's call?

Shall we hoard up our dollars? Shall farmers hold their wheat, While children suffer hunger, And workmen walk the street?

That land is doomed already To black, unending night, Whose old men worship money; Whose young men will not fight.

O, for some John the Baptist! Some prophet Malachi, To lash our selfish conscience, And teach us purpose high.

* * * * *

Thank Heaven there's a remnant, A few not quite enslaved, For ten just men in Sodom, The city would have saved.