I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
But, oh, Thou bounteous Giver of all good, Thou art, of all Thy gifts, Thyself thy crown!
No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.