I rose up at the dawn of day-- <br />`Get thee away! get thee away! <br />Pray'st thou for riches? Away! away! <br />This is the Throne of Mammon grey.' <br /> <br />Said I: This, sure, is very odd; <br />I took it to be the Throne of God. <br />For everything besides I have: <br />It is only for riches that I can crave. <br /> <br />I have mental joy, and mental health, <br />And mental friends, and mental wealth; <br />I've a wife I love, and that loves me; <br />I've all but riches bodily. <br /> <br />I am in God's presence night and day, <br />And He never turns His face away; <br />The accuser of sins by my side doth stand, <br />And he holds my money-bag in his hand. <br /> <br />For my worldly things God makes him pay, <br />And he'd pay for more if to him I would pray; <br />And so you may do the worst you can do; <br />Be assur'd, Mr. Devil, I won't pray to you. <br /> <br />Then if for riches I must not pray, <br />God knows, I little of prayers need say; <br />So, as a church is known by its steeple, <br />If I pray it must be for other people. <br /> <br />He says, if I do not worship him for a God, <br />I shall eat coarser food, and go worse shod; <br />So, as I don't value such things as these, <br />You must do, Mr. Devil, just as God please.<br /><br />William Blake<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-rose-up-at-the-dawn-of-day/
