Let Those Who Doubt the Heavenly Source

Let those who doubt the heav­en­ly source

Of re­ve­la­tion’s page di­vine

Use as their wea­pons fraud and force—

No such un­hal­lowed arms are mine.

I on­ly wield its ho­ly word—

Reason its shield

and truth its sword.

I doubt not—my re­li­gion stands

A bea­con on the eter­nal rock—

Let ma­lice throw her fie­ry brands;

Its sac­red fane has stood the shock

Of ag­es—and shall tow­er sub­lime

Above the waves and winds of time.

Infinite wis­dom formed the plan;

Infinite pow­er sup­ports the pile;

Infinite good­ness poured on man

Its ra­di­ant light—its cheer­ing smile.

Need they thy aid? Poor worm! Thy aid?

O mad pre­sump­tion—vain pa­rade!

Thou wilt not trust th’Al­migh­ty One

With His own thun­ders—thou wouldst throw

The bolts of Heav­en! O sense­less son

Of dust and dark­ness! Spi­der! Go

And with thy cob­web bind the tide

And the swift

dazz­ling co­met guide.

Yes! Force has con­quer­ing reasons giv­en

And chains and tor­tures ar­gue well—

And thou hast proved thy faith from Heav­en

By wea­pons thou hast brought from hell.

Yes! Thou hast made thy ti­tle good

For thou hast signed the deed with blood.

Daring im­pos­tor! Sure that God

Whose ad­vo­cate thou feign’st to be

Will smite thee with that aw­ful rod

Which thou wouldst seize—and pour on thee

The vi­al of that wrath

which thou

Wouldst emp­ty on thy bro­ther’s brow.