<h2><SPAN name="chap11"></SPAN>EXIT GOD</h2>
<p class="poem">
Of old our father’s God was real,<br/>
Something they almost saw,<br/>
Which kept them to a stern ideal<br/>
And scourged them into awe.<br/>
<br/>
They walked the narrow path of right<br/>
Most vigilantly well,<br/>
Because they feared eternal night<br/>
And boiling depths of Hell.<br/>
<br/>
Now Hell has wholly boiled away<br/>
And God become a shade.<br/>
There is no place for him to stay<br/>
In all the world He made.<br/>
<br/>
The followers of William James<br/>
Still let the Lord exist,<br/>
And call Him by imposing names,<br/>
A venerable list.<br/>
<br/>
But nerve and muscle only count,<br/>
Gray matter of the brain,<br/>
And an astonishing amount<br/>
Of inconvenient pain.<br/>
<br/>
I sometimes wish that God were back<br/>
In this dark world and wide;<br/>
For though some virtues He might lack,<br/>
He had his pleasant side.<br/></p>
<p class="left">
GAMALIEL BRADFORD</p>
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