OUR thoughts are molding unmade spheres, And, like a blessing or a curse, They thunder down the formless years, And ring throughout the universe. We build our futures, by the shape Of our desires, and not by acts. There is no pathway of escape; No priest-made creeds can alter facts. Salvation is not begged or bought; Too long this selfish hope sufficed; Too long man reeked with lawless thought, And leaned upon a tortured Christ. Like shriveled leaves, these worn out creeds Are dropping from Religion's tree; The world begins to know its needs, And souls are crying to be free. Free from the load of fear and grief, Man fashioned in an ignorant age; Free from the ache of unbelief He fled to in rebellious rage. No church can bind him to the things That fed the first crude souls, evolved; For, mounting up on daring wings, He questions mysteries all unsolved. Above the chant of priests, above The blatant voice of braying doubt, He hears the still, small voice of Love, Which sends its simple message out. And clearer, sweeter, day by day, Its mandate echoes from the skies, "Go roll the stone of self away, And let the Christ within thee rise.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A FLOWER FROM THE FIELD OF GRUTLI by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE LAY OF THE LABOURER by THOMAS HOOD BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TRUTH AND SORROW by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY BALLADE OF THE FOREST HAUNTERS by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE LINES TO ROBERT ALDERSON UPON HIS DEPARTURE FROM WARRINGTON by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE DEAD DRUMMER; A LEGEND OF SALISBURY PLAIN by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |