520.
Madness of Atheism.
1
Men, who the downward path have trod,
Rejoicing, cry,—“There is no God!”
While evil thoughts their heart deceive,
First they desire, and then believe.
2
What eye, reflecting, can survey
The opening morn, the closing day,
The hill, the vale, the wood, the stream,
And still of chance, with Atheists, dream!
3
Who can behold, through countless years,
Th' harmonious circuit of the spheres;
The “mind of man,” that depth profound!
The seasons, in perpetual round:
4
What heart can hear the midnight storm;
View life, in ever-varying form;
Regard the curious human frame,
And, wondering, not, “A God!” exclaim!
5
Who shall the rising sun behold,
Encircled with his robes of gold;
Who, ponder on the stars of night,
Nor own the One Great Infinite!
6
Who shall regard fair nature's face,
Replete with beauty, order, grace,
And talk, while Folly waves her rod,
Of accident, the Atheist's God!
7
[We much have view'd, and long have lived,
And lessons from our sires received,
Yet who has seen, in “atom dance!”
One grand achievement made by chance!]
8
If, truth, preeminent, there be,
Which all, but brutes, must feel and see,
It is, that there is, unconfined,
One vast, and all-presiding Mind!
9
O, may that God whose work we are;
Whose voice directs the rolling star,
Be ever near, to guide, and love,
And fit us for the world above!
