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I worship the quicksand he walks in.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
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.
And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of
worship.
And what greater calamity can fall upon a nation than the loss of
worship.
Isocrates adviseth Demonicus, when he came to a strange city, to
worship by all means the gods of the read more
Isocrates adviseth Demonicus, when he came to a strange city, to
worship by all means the gods of the place.
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.
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!
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.
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
read more
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
Forget not.
For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;
And low at the shrines read more
For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true;
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow
too;
For no form of a god, and no fashion
Man has made in his desperate passion,
But is worthy some worship of mine;
Not too hot with a gross belief,
Nor yet too cold with pride,
I will bow me down where my brothers bow,
Humble, but open eyed.