It is harder to stand on the highway, or walk in the crowded mart;
And say: 'I am He. I am He.
'Mine the world-burden; mine the sorrows of men; mine the Christ-work
'To forgive my brother's sin,' and then to live the Christ-part and
never to shirk.
It is hard for you and me
To be religious this way,
Day after day.
But God is no longer in heaven; we drove Him out with our prayers,
Drove Him out with our sermons and creeds, and our endless plaints
and despairs.
He came down over the borders, and Christ, too, came along;
They are looking the whole world over to see just what is wrong.
God has grown weary of hearing His praises sung on earth;
And Jesus is weary of hearing the story about His birth;
And the way to win Their favour, that is surer than any other,
Is to join in a song of Brotherhood and praises of one another.
No; God is no longer in heaven; He has come down on earth to see
That nothing is wrong with the world He made; THE WRONG IS IN YOU AND
ME.
He meant the earth for a garden-spot, where mill and factory stand;
Childhood, he meant for growing-time--but look at the toiling band!
Woman was meant for mother and mate--now look at the slaves of lust.
And the good folks shake their heads and say, 'We must pray to God
and trust.'
God has a billion books of our prayers unopened upon his shelves,
For the things we are begging Him to do, He wants us to do ourselves.
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