1

I USED to go to Sunday-school
When I was a little boy;
I said my catechism pat
About the wrath to come — and that
And holy kinds of joy;
For my pretty teacher told me sure
If I didn't learn it well
God some day would stick me down
In a red-hot hole in Hell.

2

I used to think if God were dead
How glad the World would be!
How all the solemn angels, up
Where gold counts less than a buttercup
Beside the Jasper Sea,
Would quit their endless psalm-singing
And chuck their harps away! —
And never a lonesome cherub would cry
Upon God's funeral day!

3

I felt there was some Other One,
Who'd watch and keep it right
For all the living things that are
From grass and flowers to the farthest star, — star, —
Just Whom I knew not quite:
But someone like my Grandmother,
Too kind to give a rip
Whether I went to Sunday-school
Or off on a fishing trip.

4

Who'd leave the Gates of Hell unlock'd
So the devils could all crawl out;
And the burning ghosts and the goblins too —
I often wonder'd what they'd do
If they could look about
And see the trees and the Sun again,
And feel the wind go by, —
I used to think those aching things
Would be so glad they'd cry.

5

Some One who'd fix old Eden up
For us as good as new;
And never would be jealous of
Our silly souls if we should love
A Golden Calf or two;
And there wouldn't be any Forbidden Tree;
But if anything went wrong
We'd fight it out among ourselves
Till we learned to get along.

6

" When I was a child I thought as a child " —
E'en so, good Father Paul!
But more and more it seems to me
That some of the things that children see
Are the truest, after all.
And e'en as a baby infidel
This pearl of faith I won,
And still I rest content therewith —
God is that Other One.