THE times are not degenerate. Man's faith Mounts higher than of old. No crumbling creed Can take from the immortal soul the need Of that supreme Creator, God. The wraith Of dead beliefs we cherished in our youth Fades but to let us welcome new-born Truth. Man may not worship at the ancient shrine Prone on his face, in self-accusing scorn. That night is past. He hails a fairer morn, And knows himself a something all divine; No humble worm whose heritage is sin, But, born of God, he feels the Christ within. Not loud his prayers, as in the olden time, But deep his reverence for that mighty force, That occult working of the great all Source, Which makes the present era so sublime. Religion now means something high and broad, And man stood never half so near to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WAY OF THE CONVENTICLE OF THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH AUCTION: ANDERSON GALLERIES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE EAGLE THAT IS FORGOTTEN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE SEA-LIMITS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 1. LORD CRASHTON by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |