They hang their heads as if in prayer, their ears
Laid back in docile meekness, and their eyes
Closed against all the folly of mankind.
There at the rail they stand, while shouts and cheers,
Screaming and laughter, fill the air with cries,
And to the modern world are deaf and blind.
When it is time, urged on by slaps and jeers,
They trot obediently bearing the thighs
Of children who great satisfaction find
In sitting where One sat ‘mid palms and spears.
Do they, whose cross-burned pelts small boys bestride,
Feel in some deep recesses of their soul
A sort of dedication, dim and droll,
To serve with patience all for whom He died?
Weekly Times 5.8.60