That time is gone; you think me weak
That I regret that perisht time,
That I recall my golden prime
With beating heart and blushing cheek.
That Book so prized, you tell me, friend,
Is full of false and deadly tales:
You say, "a palsied world bewails
Its influence; but it soon shall end."
Thank God for that: I live for truth,
Glad to resign each rainbow sham;