This preview shows pages 1–2. Sign up to view the full content.
This preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.View Full Document
Unformatted text preview: and when I rose to go, hed run before to offer me holy water at the door. Brother, I dont pretend to be a sage. Nor have I all the wisdom of the age. Theres just one insight I would dare to claim: I know that true and false are not the same. And just as there is nothing I more revere That a soul whos faith is steadfast and sincere, Nothing that I more cherish and admire That honest zeal and true religious fire, So there is nothing that I find more base Than specious pietys dishonest face Than these bold mountebanks, these histrios Whose impious mummeries and hollow shows Exploit our love of Heaven, and make a jest Of all that men think holiest and best These calculated souls who offer prayers Not to their Maker, but as public wares....
View Full Document
- Spring '11