Of old our father's God was real, <br />Something they almost saw, <br />Which kept them to a stern ideal <br />And scourged them into awe. <br /> <br />They walked the narrow path of right <br />Most vigilantly well, <br />Because they feared eternal night <br />And boiling depths of Hell. <br /> <br />Now Hell has wholly boiled away <br />And God become a shade. <br />There is no place for him to stay <br />In all the world He made. <br /> <br />The followers of William James <br />Still let the Lord exist, <br />And call Him by imposing names, <br />A venerable list. <br />But nerve and muscle only count, <br />Gray matter of the brain, <br />And an astonishing amount <br />Of inconvenient pain. <br /> <br />I sometimes wish that God were back <br />In this dark world and wide; <br />For though sonic virtues He might lack, <br />He had his pleasant side.<br /><br />Gamaliel Bradford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/exit-god/
