Since man, by right of birth

And nature’s gift at least

A god upon the earth,

Remaineth but a beast,

Ill-ruling, blind and halt,

And not by powers’ unknown,

Or far-off Heaven’s, fault,

But chiefly by his own.

Lies!—let us drink them up,

The sweet and bitter lies!

Man takes the maddening cup

And drinks and dreams and dies.

Pure as revealing morn

The angel Truth stands there;

But we, oh basely born!

Dare not to look at her.

Not by eternal laws

Condemn’d to eternal ruth,

We suffer; but because

We dare not face the truth.

We wreath and sanctify us

To the inferior gods;

For things which vilify us

We lash ourselves with rods.

We rip our veins and bleed

Before the gods of mire;

For Moloch, without need,

Consume our babes in fire;

But the greatest God of all

In eternal silence reigns;

To His high audience-hall

No human soul attains.