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Worship
I know a quite religious man
Who utters praises when he can.
Now I find God in bard and book,
In school and temple, bird and brook.
But he says God is sweetest of all
Discovered in a drinking-hall.
For God requires no costly wine
But comes on the foam of a crockery stein.
And when that foam is on the lips,
Begin then God's good fellowships.
Cathedrals, synagogues, and kirks
May go to the devil, and all their works.
And as for Christian charity,
It's made out of hilarity.
He gives the beggar all his dimes,
Forgives his brother seven times.
'I love the rain,' says thirsty clod;
So this religious man of God.
For God has come, and is it odd
He praises all the works of God?
'For God has come, and there's no sorrow,'
He sings all night--will he sing to-morrow?
poem
by
John Crowe Ransom
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