Thoughts on God

Lucas Prichard

String me upon that proverbial cross

And I'll dance for you;

A drunkard's waltz,

This foolish jig.

The wine has spoiled,

I still drink.

The cask is dry,

Still I think.

The cursed crawls

And counts the cost.

For want of God

This mind was lost.

If but for a moment

I could look upon your face.