Of old our father's God was real,
Something they almost saw,
Which kept them to a stern ideal
And scourged them into awe.
They walked the narrow path of right
Most vigilantly well,
Because they feared eternal night
And boiling depths of Hell.
Now Hell has wholly boiled away
And God become a shade.
There is no place for him to stay
In all the world He made.
The followers of William James
Still let the Lord exist,
And call Him by imposing names,
A venerable list.
But nerve and muscle only count,
Gray matter of the brain,
And an astonishing amount
Of inconvenient pain.
I sometimes wish that God were back
In this dark world and wide;
For though sonic virtues He might lack,
He had his pleasant side.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Exit God by Gamaliel Bradford )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Coach journey home, Mark Heathcote
- Another Barn Burns (don't call 911) .., Monk E. Biz
- Confirmation, Yuliy Valenko
- The bee Haiku, Sambanath Denis
- The Slight And Sorry Words, Sambanath Denis
- On A Painting, Sambanath Denis
- The Day Your Mother Kept For You, mary douglas
- Leaving For Okinawa In The Morning, Kyle Schlicher
- Into Your Eyes, Spiritwind Wood
- What You Thought I Thought You Thought, Dexsta Ray