O Adam's Race! Thy Beauty Molden

O Adam's race! thy beauty molden,
Who gave thee o'er to flesh and blood?
For life is not of blood itself
But of the Breath of God.

Was it by thine own strength
From whence thy dust-wrought bosom
Gave forth that lustrous being
From whence all life doth blossom?

Who gave to thee the stars
For to command the night,
And who hath given thee the pow'r
Of day to own the light?

Was it by thine own cunning
And thy brilliant youthful mind
That conquered ye the cosmos
For to say, "All Nature's mine!"?

From whence hast thou derivèd
This right proposed by thee
That thou should rule the earth, and more:
The universe empty?

Thou canst not well-sustain thyself
Against the Nature's power;
Ye have but to return in haste
To Truth's eternal Tower.

"Whereto shall we escape!" ye cry
In anguish, for the earth
Has swift against thee made its war
To end thy kind's rebirth.

When in the darkness stagg'ring
Like some encumbered beast,
Thou wilt a-sense the sweet aroma
Of thy Creator's feast.

He beckons thee to come beside Him,
Kneeling 'for His table spread,
That His good wisdom thou wouldst harken:
"Go to where my Son hath bled."

From the feast ye run enmaddened,
Halting not to rest or eat,
Running with consumèd passion
To kneel before the Savior's feet.

Up the steeped slope ye climb
Whereto the Son is dying;
Thou fallest down on blood-wet ground
And shield thine eyes, a-crying.

"O Man, what hast thou come here for
To this My dying place?
For there is naught that ye could ask
That is not found in grace."

"O Lord!" ye cry, "My God and King!
'Tis after Ye I've come,
For in Thy grace I knew I'd find
Salvation and a home."

"Alas!" says He, "My chosen child,
Thy wish to thee is granted,
For on this day the pow'r of darkness
Has been well-supplanted."

"Thy sins and all thy folly-ways
Which ever ye conceived
Are all forgotten and erased
Since ye were first deceived."