Classic Poem

You say 'tis still God's Book, still true and wise —
Tho' you have shorn it of its noblest parts,
Disparaged all its great biographies,
And left no nourishment for pining hearts;
But that's a foodless river, where the fish
Are stolen from the waters, every fin,
Whence thieves have harried all that God put in,
And spared us scarce enough to freight a dish;
So have you stolen away our food for faith —
With Moses disallow'd, and Paul review'd,
And Christ Himself by rival pens pursued,
That race each other thro' His life and death —
It irks my soul to see how bland you look,
Giving your foolish blessing to the Book!