quote · Legacy record
’Tis Superstition! that Dread bolt that seems to him and thee the home Of torture, is the earth, the beauteous earth, Created by thy God, a perfect thing, All loveliness, and life, and light, to be The dwelling-place of thee and thine—but this, This ignorant, besotted fool, sees but In that beneficent gift, where all is formed For happiness, a scene of punishment And death; turns every joy to bitterness, Reproaches God with never-ending fears, And, like a thankless wretch, dashes aside The cup of happiness the Almighty hand Gives to his lips, when he might know his praise, And gratitude can but be shown by free And innocent enjoyment; not content That his own soul must suffer misery, He would crush down his fellow-beings with The weight of his own gloom. His voice shall fill The earth with one loud cry; at his command, The homes of thousands shall be desolate; At his command, fathers shall give their sons To be devoured by lingering fire, or stretched Upon a wheel, whose racking torture tears The victim limb-meal, and then lift their hands, Their impious hands, to heaven, and call the deed Of blasphemy a holy act. Weak fools! To think it pleaseth Him who made them in His image—that that image should be torn, Defaced, and blotted.
’Tis Superstition! that Dread bolt that seems to him and thee the home Of torture, is the earth, the beauteous earth, Created by thy God, a perfect thing, All loveliness, and life, and light, to be The dwelling-place of thee and thine—but this, This ignorant, besotted fool, sees but In that beneficent gift, where all is formed For happiness, a scene of punishment And death; turns every joy to bitterness, Reproaches God with never-ending fears, And, like a thankless wretch, dashes aside The cup of happiness the Almighty hand Gives to his lips, when he might know his praise, And gratitude can but be shown by free And innocent enjoyment; not content That his own soul must suffer misery, He would crush down his fellow-beings with The weight of his own gloom. His voice shall fill The earth with one loud cry; at his command, The homes of thousands shall be desolate; At his command, fathers shall give their sons To be devoured by lingering fire, or stretched Upon a wheel, whose racking torture tears The victim limb-meal, and then lift their hands, Their impious hands, to heaven, and call the deed Of blasphemy a holy act. Weak fools! To think it pleaseth Him who made them in His image—that that image should be torn, Defaced, and blotted.
In print by 1888 AD · industrial
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- Author or tradition
- Constantia Louisa Riddell (identity unresolved)
Attribution: unknown - Country attributed
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- In print by 1888 AD · industrial
In print by 1888: recorded in A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations (catalogued1888). Collection publication is an upper bound for this wording, not its earliest origin, composition date or the author's lifetime.
An author lifetime, approximate period or collection date is not necessarily the date when these words were first written or spoken. - Recorded source
- A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations (catalogued1888) (1888 AD)
Page 582 · printed citation: Constantia Louisa Riddell · subject: SUPERSTITION
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