A lie well established, and hoary with age,
Resists the assaults of the boldest seceder;
While he is accounted the greatest of saints,
Who silences reason and follows the leader.
Whenever a mortal has dared to be wise,
And seize upon Truth, as the soul’s “Magna Charta,”
He always has won from the lovers of lies,
The name of a fool, or the fate of a martyr.
There are popular lies, and political lies,
And “lies that stick fast between buying and selling,”
And lies of politeness—conventional lies—
(Which scarcely are reckoned as such in the telling.)
There are lies of sheer malice, and slanderous lies,
From those who delight to peck filth like a pigeon;
But the oldest and far most respectable lies,
Are those that are told in the name of Religion.
Theology sits like a tyrant enthroned,
A system per se with a fixed nomenclature,
Derived from strange doctrines, and dogmas, and creeds,
At war with man’s reason, with God and with Nature;
And he who subscribes to the popular faith,
Never questions the fact of divine inspiration,
But holds to the Bible as absolute truth,
From Genesis through to St. John’s Revelation.
We mock at the Catholic bigots at Rome,
Who strive with their dogmas man’s reason to fetter;
But we turn to the Protestant bigots at home,
And we find that their dogmas are scarce a whit better.
We are called to believe in the wrath of the Lord—
In endless damnation, and torments infernal;
While around and above us, the Infinite Truth,
Scarce heeded or heard, speaks sublime and eternal.
It is sad—but the day-star is shining on high,
And Science comes in with her conquering legions;
And ev’ry respectable, time-honored lie,
Will fly from her face to the mythical regions.
The soul shall no longer with terror behold
The red waves of wrath that leap up to engulf her,
For Science ignores the existence of hell,
And chemistry finds better uses for sulphur.
We may dare to repose in the beautiful faith,
That an Infinite Life is the source of all being;
And though we must strive with delusion and Death,
We can trust to a love and a wisdom all-*seeing;
We may dare in the strength of the soul to arise,
And walk where our feet shall not stumble or falter;
And, freed from the bondage of time-honored lies,
To lay all we have on the Truth’s sacred altar.
THE RAINBOW BRIDGE.
’Twas a faith that was held by the Northmen bold,
In the ages long, long ago,
That the river of death, so dark and cold,
Was spanned by a radiant bow;
A rainbow bridge to the blest abode
Of the strong Gods—free from ill,
Where the beautiful Urda fountain flowed,
Near the ash tree Igdrasill.
They held that when, in life’s weary march,
They should come to that river wide,
They would set their feet on the shining arch,
And would pass to the other side.
And they said that the Gods and the Heroes crossed
That bridge from the world of light,
To strengthen the Soul when its hope seemed lost,
In the conflict for the right.