O false and treacherous Probability, Enemy of truth, and friend to wickednesse; With whose bleare eyes opinion learnes to see Truths feeble party here, and barrennesse. When thou hast thus misled Humanity, And lost obedience in the pride of wit, With reason dar'st thou judge the Deity, And in thy flesh make bold to fashion it. Vaine thought, the word of Power a riddle is, And till the vayles be rent, the flesh newborne, Reveals no wonders of that inward blisse, Which but where faith is, every where findes scorne; Who therfore censures God with fleshly sp'rit, As well in time may wrap up infinite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF THE GIBBET by FRANCOIS VILLON ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 64 by PHILIP SIDNEY HYMN TO THE FLOWERS by HORACE SMITH IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 115 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX |