They would give hate to Thee, spite to Thee, jealousy—
Thou the adored:
Only have fear in Thee, only repel Thee,
Master and Lord.
They would bring shame to Thee, even in worship—
Each empty rite:
Bigotry, canting and sere superstition,
Knowing no light.
Faiths esoteric, pedantic and recondite—
Mystical creeds:
False and insipid and brutal and selfish—
And wrought to their needs.
They whom Ye nurtured from primal conceiving,
And ne’er a flaw—
They know Thee not, or in knowing, reject Thee,
Thee and Thy law.
Saying, "We see Thee not, come to us, speak to us—
Tangible stand.
Come in the purple, crowned, robed and resplendent—
Sceptre in hand.
"Even as kings have done, through all the ages,
Brave to behold—
Fanfare of trumpets, be jeweled and refulgent
And girdled with gold:
"Or in a chariot welded of star-dust—
Glittering white—
Pause at the cloud-line ’mid crashing of thunder
And blazing of light.
"Rolling Thy voice till the Pleiades tremble—
The spheres are amoan;
The Earth for a footstool—the outermost planets
Grouped for a throne.
“Thus would we see Thee, acclaim Thee; and worship Thee,
Thou in Thy might—
Concrete, conglomerate, human and splendid—
Aflame in our sight.”