[Written for the Sentinel]


Dear Lord, I cried, if Thou art God,
Reveal Thyself to me;
In wondrous sign or mighty deed,
I would Thy glory see.
This mountain pile bid Thou depart,
The surging sea divide;
Or bid me walk upon its waves,
Defiant of the tide.

Or give to me the boon I crave—
A seat among the great,
That I may with the rich and proud,
Myself ingratiate.
If Thou wouldst bless with gift of tongues,
With great and mighty voice,
Such theories I would expound,
As make the world rejoice.

'T was thus, with diligence I sought,
But nowhere God I found;
Nor to my prayers did He vouchsafe
A single sign or sound.
There is no God, I cried at length,
To heed or answer prayer!
Then turning to life's honeyed cup,
I drank—but found despair.

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