 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
THE INVENTION OF GOD
Some tell us that, in evil hour,
Our fears invented God, the dread
Of our forefathers lying dead,
Or of some dark, malignant Power
Our fears invented God, the dread
Of our forefathers lying dead,
Or of some dark, malignant Power
That sendeth pestilence and drought,
And storms and desolating wars,
And horrid glare of baleful stars,
And grief and pain, and fear and doubt:
And storms and desolating wars,
And horrid glare of baleful stars,
And grief and pain, and fear and doubt:
Wherefore the troubled spirit dreamed
A Phantom stood upon its path,
And hastened to appease His wrath
By whatsoe'er it most esteemed.
A Phantom stood upon its path,
And hastened to appease His wrath
By whatsoe'er it most esteemed.
Man did not know the law that binds
Whatever is with all that was,
And in the sum of complex cause
A deep unconscious wisdom finds.
Whatever is with all that was,
And in the sum of complex cause
A deep unconscious wisdom finds.
A savage without science, he
Sat shivering in his dirty rag,
And deemed some godhead held a bag,
Filled full of pain and misery,
Sat shivering in his dirty rag,
And deemed some godhead held a bag,
Filled full of pain and misery,
Which he let loose on hapless men,
What time, an hungered, he would dine
On ample flesh, and bread and wine,
And found his altar stinted then.
What time, an hungered, he would dine
On ample flesh, and bread and wine,
And found his altar stinted then.
And so man's fear invented God;
For thunder-clap and stormy blast,
And fire-stream from the mountain cast
Seemed the fell strokes of His angry rod;
For thunder-clap and stormy blast,
And fire-stream from the mountain cast
Seemed the fell strokes of His angry rod;
And pestilence His deadly breath,
And war a game He loved to play
For pastime of an idle day,
That gambled with our life and death:
And war a game He loved to play
For pastime of an idle day,
That gambled with our life and death:
Wherefore men crept up to His feet,
And licked the dust in abject fear,
And howled their prayers into His ear,
Or gashed them, and their bosoms beat.
And licked the dust in abject fear,
And howled their prayers into His ear,
Or gashed them, and their bosoms beat.
Strange savage, in the nutting wood,
Who, just emerged from apehood, framed
Articulate speech, and all things named,
And, brooding in a troubled mood,
Who, just emerged from apehood, framed
Articulate speech, and all things named,
And, brooding in a troubled mood,
Invented God! Our triumphs are
But trifles it were best to hide,
But poor mechanic toys, beside
The trophies of Thy fruitful war.
But trifles it were best to hide,
But poor mechanic toys, beside
The trophies of Thy fruitful war.
O semi-brute! thou hadst a dream
Transcending all that we can reach,
For thou invented'st God and Speech,
And we have only compassed—Steam.
Transcending all that we can reach,
For thou invented'st God and Speech,
And we have only compassed—Steam.
And Thou dark Phantom of our fears,
How comes the heart to cling to Thee
For comfort in its misery,
And drying of its blinding tears?
How comes the heart to cling to Thee
For comfort in its misery,
And drying of its blinding tears?
The stream that from the height comes down,
And foams along the rock-strewn course,
Can never rise above its source,
But creepeth down by grange and town;
And foams along the rock-strewn course,
Can never rise above its source,
But creepeth down by grange and town;
Yet from that spring of coward dread,
That Phantom born of wrath and death,
Come holy love, brave-hearted faith,
And hope with heavenly visions fed!
That Phantom born of wrath and death,
Come holy love, brave-hearted faith,
And hope with heavenly visions fed!
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |