I am ashes where once I was fire.
We of the craft are all crazy.
Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise!
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea.
War, war is still the cry,-"war even to the knife!"
This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.