A man went before a strange God,–
The God of many men, sadly wise.
And the Deity thundered loudly,
Fat with rage, and puffing,
“Kneel, Mortal, and cringe
And grovel and do homage
To My particularly sublime majesty.”
The man fled.
Then the man went to another God,–
The God of his inner thoughts.
And this one looked at him
With soft eyes
Lit with infinite comprehension,
And said, “My poor child!”
–Stephen Crane, from
The Black Riders
and Other Lines