THE CONSCIENCE OF THE WORKERS
The conscience of the workers, it is waking day by day,
It is rising in a flood-tide that will sweep the Beast away;
It is shaking down the fortress and the prison dark and strong,
And the courtrooms of injustice, and the thrones of vested wrong!
The conscience of the workers, it has wakened sword in hand,
And the Marseillaise is ringing in a chorus deep and grand;
Over hill and dale and valley, in a fearless, glad refrain,
Onward sweeps the hymn of freedom 'round a rebel world again.
The conscience of the workers—O my masters! nevermore
Will we cringe and plead for mercy at your gold-stained temple door!
We shall come in all the glory of the human soul awake,
We shall reach our strong hands forward and our birthright we shall TAKE!
The conscience of the workers—O my masters, heed you this:
We, the workers, were awakened from the dead by Freedom's kiss;
We were 'wakened from our slumber and shall never sleep again,
'Till your kingdom lies in ashes and the stars of freedom reign.
✤ ✤ ✤ ✤
THE STRIKE
Say what ye will, ye owls of night,
The strike upholds the cause of right;
The strike compels the king to pause,
The statesmen to remould the laws.
Say what ye will, yet, without ruth,
The strike drives home the bitter truth;
The strike tears off the mask of things,
To mass and class the issue brings.
Say what ye will, the strike is good:
It clears things long misunderstood:
It jolts the social mind awake:
It forces men a stand to take.
Say what ye will, all else above,
The strike is war for bread and love;
For raiment, shelter, freedom, all
The human race can justice call.
—6—
