Madmoments: or First Verseattempts By a Bornnatural. Addressed to the Lightheaded of Society at Large, by Henry Ellison |
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ON NARROW UNBIBLESANCTIONED PRIESTPREJUDICES. |
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 | Madmoments: or First Verseattempts |  |
ON NARROW UNBIBLESANCTIONED PRIESTPREJUDICES.
1.
Ye moleeyed Truthmonopolists, who castThe unchristened Babe from out your hallowed Ground,
Is there no Restingplace beyond the Bound
Of your scant Choice? can in this World so vast,
Which God, when all its Tribes before him passed,
Bless'd and pronounc'd so good, no Nook be found,
But what is hallowed by the vain Lipsound
Of your unmeaning Words? ye Fools! the last,
Poor, spurned Remains shall rest in Spite of ye,
And on the Bosom of its God again
The Soul repose, remingled free from Stain
With its first Source, as sure and blessedly,
As tho' ye had been by with Mockeries vain,
Turning God's Broaddaytruth to Mystery!
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2.
Aye, ye may churchban such as will not prayWith your own Forms and Words, as tho' they were
Outcasts from Grace, yet are they still as near
To God's Salvation, and will find that Way,
Better than ye, that leadeth not astray:
They have a Temple still, a goodly, fair,
And fitting Worshipplace, whose Walls are Air,
Whose Roof the Sky itself: wherein by Day
And Night are Signs and Tokens that do preach,
Better than Lip and Book, unto the Eye
And Ear of Faith; a Wisdom within Reach,
Yea! of the least Capacity, a Creed
So simple that no Comment it can need,
The pure Religion of Humanity!
This World their Temple is! above their Head
No timeworn Roof by Man's frail Hand begun,
But the blue Ether like Faith's Banner spread;
The Mountains are their Altar, and thereon,
The fittest Incense, their own Hearts alone
Are poured forth, like the Perfumes round them shed
From all Earth's thousand Flowers, of which each,
By being stilly what it should, doth preach
In silent, yet intelligible Wise,
The sublime Moral of Man's Destinies!
3.
This is the Temple of the living God!Built with his own Righthand, a Token high
To witness for him, clothed in Majesty,
As in his Shadow. Winds amid the Wood,
These are the Anthem, which, in solemn Mood
Blent with far Ocean's Dash, come floating by
Upon the Ear, a Voice of Mistery,
A Tone that sweeps upon us like a Flood,
A Sound of mighty Waters that flow on
Afar, and steal upon us like the sweet,
Yet solemn Music of Eternity,
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Snatches of a nowbroken Harmony,
A Hometunefragment fading alltoofleet!
| Madmoments: or First Verseattempts | |