O false and treacherous Probability, Enemy of truth, and friend to wickednesse; With whose bleare eyes opinion learnes to see Truths feeble party here, and barrennesse. When thou hast thus misled Humanity, And lost obedience in the pride of wit, With reason dar'st thou judge the Deity, And in thy flesh make bold to fashion it. Vaine thought, the word of Power a riddle is, And till the vayles be rent, the flesh newborne, Reveals no wonders of that inward blisse, Which but where faith is, every where findes scorne; Who therfore censures God with fleshly sp'rit, As well in time may wrap up infinite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY by ROBERT BURNS THE RAINY SUMMER by ALICE MEYNELL PENULTIMATE PURITAN by HELEN L. BARNES HAMPTON TOWN by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA by ROBERT BURNS TWO MOTHERS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 37 by THOMAS CAMPION ARTHUR MERVYN; A TALE OF SOCIAL GRIEVANCES: THE PASSING OF ARTHUR by SAMUEL CARTER |