BALLADE OF THE PAID PURITAN

By Richard Le Gallienne

In vain with whip and knotted cord

The hirelings of hypocrisy

Would make us comely for the Lord:

Think ye God works through such as ye —

Paid Puritan, plump Pharisee,

And lobbyist fingering his fat bill,

Reeking of rum and bribery:

God needs not you to work His will.

We know you whom you serve, abhorred

Traducers of true piety,

What tarnished gold is your reward

In Washington and Albany;

‘ Tis not from God you take your fee,

Another's purpose to fulfil,

You that are God's worst enemy:

God needs not you to work His will.

Not by the money-changing horde,

Base traders in the sanctuary,

Nor by fanatic fire and sword,

Shall man grow as God wills him be;

In his own heart a voice hath he

That whispers to him small and still;

God gives him eyes His good to see:

God needs not you to work His will.

Dear Prince, a sinner's honesty

Is more to God, much nearer still,

Than the bribed hypocritic knee:

God needs not you to work His will.