large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_49_robinson_64kb_32
large/10730/children_of_the_night_1604_librivox_64kb_mp3/childrenofthenight_49_robinson_64kb
English
10730
The fashion Of our belief is to lift all beings Born for a life that knows no struggle In sin's tight snares to eternal glory    All apart from the branded millions Who carry through life their faces graven With sure brute scars that tell the story Of their foul, fated passions. THE FASHION OF OUR BELIEF IS TO LIFT ALL BEINGS BORN FOR A LIFE THAT KNOWS NO STRUGGLE AND SINS TIGHT SNARES TO ETERNAL GLORY ALL APART FROM THE BRANDON MILLIONS WHO CARRY THROUGH LIFE THEIR FACES GRAVEN WITH SURE BRUTE SCARS THAT TELL THE STORY OF THEIR FOUL FADED PASSIONS
s of others, -- Till I found myself their fool. Then I trembled, -- A poor scared thing, -- and their prying faces Told me the ghastly truth: they were laughing At me and my fate. My God, I could feel it -- That laughter! And then the children caught it; And I, like a struck dog, crept and listened. And then when I met the man who had weakened A woman's love to his own desire, It seemed to me that all hell were laughing In fiendish concert! I was their victim -- And his, and hate's. And there was the struggle! As long as the earth we tread holds something A tortured heart can love, the meaning Of life is not wholly blurred; but after The last loved thing in the world has left us, We know the triumph of hate. The glory Of good goes out forever; the beacon Of sin is the light that leads us downward -- Down to the fiery end. The road runs Right through hell; and the souls that follow The cursed ways where its windings lead them Suffer enough, I say, to merit All grace that a God can give. R AND BEARING WITH ALL MY SORROW THE SORROWS OF OTHERS TILL I FOUND MYSELF THEIR FOOL THEN I TREMBLED A POOR SCARED THING AND THEIR PRYING FACES TOLD ME THE GHASTLY TRUTH THEY WERE LAUGHING AT ME AND MY FATE MY GOD I COULD FEEL IT THAT LAUGHTER AND THEN THE CHILDREN CAUGHT IT AND I LIKE A STRUCK DOG CREPT AND LISTENED AND THEN WHEN I MET THE MAN WHO HAD WEAKENED A WOMAN'S LOVE TO HIS OWN DESIRE IT SEEMED TO ME THAT ALL HELL WERE LAUGHING AND FIENDISH CONCERT AND I WAS THEIR VICTIM AND HIS AND HATES AND THERE WAS A STRUGGLE AS LONG AS THE EARTH WE TREAD HOLD SOMETHING A TORTURED HEART CAN LOVE THE MEANING OF LIFE IS NOT WHOLLY BLURRED BUT AFTER THE LAST LOVED THING IN THE WORLD HAS LEFT US WE KNOW THE TRIUMPH OF HATE THE GLORY OF GOOD GOES OUT FOR EVER THE BEACON OF SIN IS THE LIGHT THAT LEADS US DOWNWARD DOWN TO THE FIERY END THE ROAD RUNS RIGHT THROUGH HELL AND THE SOULS THAT FOLLOW THE CURSED WAYS WHERE ITS WINDINGS LEAD THEM SUFFER ENOUGH I SAY TO MERIT ALL GRACE THAT A GOD CAN GIVE
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