And the Churches shut their eyes, and take his toll.

And the lauded 'Lovely Mothers' send the son out into life
With no knowledge-welded armour for the fight;
'He will make his way like others, through the Oat field, to the
Wife';
'He will somehow be led onward, to the light.'

Yes, his leaders, they shall find him. On the highways at each turn,
(Since you did not choose to counsel or to warn,)
They shall tempt him, then shall bind him; they shall blight, and
they shall burn,
Down to offspring and descendants yet unborn.

It can never end through preaching; it can never end through laws;
This social sore, no punishment can heal.
It must be the mother's teaching of the purpose, and the cause,
And God's glory, lying under sex appeal.

She must feel no fear to name it to the children it has brought;
She must speak of it as sacred, and sublime;
She must beautify, not shame it, by her speech and by her thought;
Till they listen, and respect it, for all time.

From the heart they rested under ere they saw the light of day,
Must the daughters and the sons be taught this truth;
Till they think of it with wonder, as a holy thing alway;
While love's wisdom guides them safely through their youth.

Oh, the world has made its devil, and the Mothers let it grow;