The church bells were ringing, the devil sat singing <br />On the stump of a rotting old tree; <br />'Oh faith it grows cold, and the creeds they grow old, <br />And the world is nigh ready for me.' <br /> <br />The bells went on ringing, a spirit came singing, <br />And smiled as he crumbled the tree; <br />'Yon wood does but perish new seedlings to cherish, <br />And the world is too live yet for thee.' <br /> <br /> <br />Eversley, 1848.<br /><br />Charles Kingsley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-parable-from-liebig/
