Liberalism

Ye cannot halve the Gospel of God’s grace; Men of presumptuous heart! I know you well. Ye are of those who plan that we should dwell, Each in his tranquil home and holy place; Seeing the Word refines all natures rude, And tames the stirrings of the multitude.

And ye have caught some echoes of its lore, As heralded amid the joyous choirs; Ye mark’d it spoke of peace, chastised desires, Good-will and mercy—and ye heard no more; But, as for zeal and quick-eyed sanctity, And the dread depths of grace, ye pass’d them by.

And so ye halve the Truth; for ye in heart, At best, are doubters whether it be true, The theme discarding, as unmeet for you, Statesmen or Sages. O new-compass’d art Of the ancient Foe!—but what, if it extends O’er our own camp, and rules amid our friends?