Men donít believe in a devil now,

As their fathers used to do;

Theyíve force the door of the broadest creed,

To let his majesty through

There isnít a print of his cloven foot

Or a fiery dart from his bow

To be found in the earth or in the air to-day.

For the world has voted so.


They say he doesnít go round about

As a roaring lion now;

But whom shall we hold responsible

For the everlasting row

To be heard in home and church and state

To the earthís remotest bound,

If the devil, by unanimous vote,

Is nowhere to be found?


Who is it mixing the fatal draught

That palsies heart and brain,

And loads the bier of each passing year

With ten hundred thousand slain?

Who blights the bloom of the land to-day

With the fiery breath of hell,

If the devil isnít and never was?

Wonít somebody rise and tell?


Who dogs the steps of the toiling saint

And digs the pits for his feet?

Who sows the tares in the fields of time

Wherever God sows His wheat?

The devil was voted not to be,

And of course the thing is true;

But who is doing this kind of work

The devil used to do?


Wonít somebody step to the front forthwith,

And make his bow, and show

How the frauds and crimes of a single day spring up?

We want to know.

The devil was fairly voted out,

And of course the devilís gone;

But simple people want to know

Who carries his business on?



What Satan fears most
Is a man on his knees;
Not vast marching armies
With great weaponry.
He knows he can stand
Against the power of men;
To engage us in battle
Is mere sport to him.
But a man on his knees
With his head bowed in prayer
Is something quite different
To the prince of the air.
For when he sees us in prayer
To our God most high,
He knows we have seen
Through his devilish lies.
That's why Satan fears most
A man on his knees;
And we'll keep him trembling
If our prayers never cease.