The Mystery of Godliness By F. B. Money Coutts [i.e. Coutts-Nevill] |
 |
[Art thou the God of millions or of tens?] |
 | The Mystery of Godliness |  |
vii
[Art thou the God of millions or of tens?]
Art thou the God of millions or of tens?Art thou the God of this world or the next?
Art thou the God of spirit or of text?
Art thou the God of sheep in folded pens,
But not of roaming, restless denizens
Of mountains and of forests, often vexed
By burricanes and spectres of perplexed
Belated waifs that perish in the fens?
Doth thy Shekinah still above our race
Brood, with its fire by night and cloud by day?
Doth one fleece catch the dewdrops of thy grace,
While unrefreshed is all the common clay?
Can Nature for repentance find no place,
While the smooth saint her birthright bears away?
(From “Poems,” 1896).
| The Mystery of Godliness | |