A Parable From Liebig

By Charles Kingsley

The church bells were ringing, the devil sat singing

On the stump of a rotting old tree;

'Oh faith it grows cold, and the creeds they grow old,

And the world is nigh ready for me.'

The bells went on ringing, a spirit came singing,

And smiled as he crumbled the tree;

'Yon wood does but perish new seedlings to cherish,

And the world is too live yet for thee.'

Eversley, 1848.