  To work and love and live and do For others as for oneself, in my view, Would be a good religion for me and for you. To help ourselves and others to educate, That all false pride, selfishness and hate, Come from ignorance and is not innate. It is born of the admiration some bestow On fools who parade around to make a show Of their wealth, and also the clothes they wear, Thinking themselves too good our company to share. ’Tis not the books we read, nor the speed, That we travel, nor our boasted creed; ’Tis not the strength we have to believe, All the tales that from others we receive; Nor the ugly faces we make when we grieve; Nor those long drawn out sighs we heave; Nor even the sorrow we feel for crimes, Committed away back in ancient times, By Adam and Eve among their vines Of the lovely Garden of Eden Where before there was not a weed in. Go to church if you please, don your bonnet and hike, Take a front seat or sit with the choir if you like, Invite others too, but don’t frown if they do Let you go by yourself if they want you. When you see a brother come to great grief, Don’t take that chance to give yourself relief, Of a burden you’ve carried to get a chance To heave at him while down, your pious lance; Put your arms around his neck, his pains to check, And take some other time his sins to inspect. Put your money in the missionary field, To send to all China and all around you feel, Like saving them from their idols to whom they kneel; Spread yourself on land and sea to get them in the band; All this you do and have not charity, And your religion is not right for me. Cut out Sunday, sin, satan and hell, Leave the gods up where they are wont to dwell; Change all of your songs about heaven above To things upon our earth and human love; Put off your mourning, lugubrious whine And think of man as the one divine; Learn to talk and walk and act As if man’s freedom was a real fact. Let your parsons take off their gowns, And smooth out all their wrinkly frowns; And preach about potatoes, corn and hay, Just as if folks on earth intended to stay. Let deacons and monks and all their crew, Find work for themselves to toil and do; Use all your churches, temples and spires, According to man’s natural and ordinary desires; Stop talking about inspired books and creeds, But show your faith by human thoughts and deeds. Immaculate conception and total depravity, Are entirely too heavy for mortal’s gravity; Baptism, holy unction, and the new birth divine, Are elements in which gods alone may shine. All our superstitions and fears and shame, Originate in reverence for some holy name, Burned into man by torch, faggot and flame. Prophets, priests and seers of old, So long their marvellous tales have told, That none on earth but the reckless and old, A doubt against them dare to hold. Their ancient books and maps and charts, Are indelibly branded upon our hearts. From childhood hour at chime of bell All congregate to hear the preacher tell Of the garden of Eden where the serpent bold, To our first mother did his story unfold; And, that fascinated by that shiny snake, She has doomed us all to the burning lake, With no water our scorching thirst to slake. He tells us too with all his might and main, That for our crimes the pensive one was slain; And that by his death on the cruel cross, We may recoup our first mother’s loss. That all are bound in the chains of sin, Steeped in iniquity she did begin, By that headlong fall our mother Eve fell, And, unless we believe the tales they tell, Our lot will be cast with the damned in hell.
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