Classic Poem

I, faithful, can not in a God believe
Who in majestic ways will be revered,
When I am dead and shall have disappeared,
Before whose altars men unborn will grieve.

To my God giving, from Him I would receive,
I being in jealous moods and fashions reared,
And crave to pray to One divinely feared,
One unto whom, when timorous, I can cleave.

If such be worshiped by the common throng,
To me It is not God, for I desire
Some Thing immense, omnipotent, alone,
Some Vagueness nameless in my feeble song;
Some Power of splendor, fury and of fire,
Some mystic Wonder to the world unknown.