Explore "To the Master" by Taras Shevchenko on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh, wherefore wert Thou crucified, / Thou Christ, the Son of God?
That the word of Truth be glorified?
Or that we good folks should 'scape the rod / Of avenging wrath, by faith confest?
Meanwhile of Thee we make a jest, / Mocking Thy love in our conduct's test.
Cathedrals and chapels with Icons grand!
'Mid smoke of incense lavers stand.
There before Thy pictured Presence / Crowds unwearied make obeisance; / For spoil, for war, for slaughter seek / Their brother's blood to shed they pray, / And then before Thy form so meek / The loot of burning towns they lay.