What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
read more

What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I don't like your way of conditioning and contracting with the
saints. Do this and I'll do that! Here's read more

I don't like your way of conditioning and contracting with the
saints. Do this and I'll do that! Here's one for t'other. Save
me and I'll give you a taper or go on a pilgrimage.

As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds.
And his gods they are shaped in read more

As the skull of the man grows broader, so do his creeds.
And his gods they are shaped in his image and mirror his needs.
And he clothes them with thunders and beauty,
He clothes them with music and fire,
Seeing not, as he bows by their altars,
That he worships his own desire.

Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the
place where he chanced to be.

Every one's true worship was that which he found in use in the
place where he chanced to be.

The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!--
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, read more

The heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old!--
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.

Together kneeling, night and day,
Thou, for my sake, at Allah's shrine,
And I--at any God's for read more

Together kneeling, night and day,
Thou, for my sake, at Allah's shrine,
And I--at any God's for thine.

So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
read more

So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
Where faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell,
Written in blood--and Bigotry may swell
The sail he spreads for Heav'n with blasts from hell!

Intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
And look you get a read more

Intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
And look you get a prayer book in your hand
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord,
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant;
And be not easily won to our requests.