Think Not I Dread To See My

I Can’t Reveal The Mystery To Either Saint Or Sinner; I Can’t State At Length What I’ve Said Curtly; I Achieve An Altered State That I Can’t Explain; I Have A Secret That I Cannot Share.

This Body Is A Tent Which For A Space Does The Pure Soul With Kingly Presence Grace; When He Departs, Comes The Tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes It, And Moves To A New Halting-place.

Oh Thou, Who Man Of Baser Earth Didst Make, And Ev'n With Paradise Devise The Snake; For All The Sin Wherewith The Face Of Man Is Blackened - Man's Forgiveness Give And Take!

Ah, Take The Cash, And Let The Credit Go, Nor Heed The Rumble Of A Distant Drum!

Into This Universe, And Why Not Knowing Nor Whence, Like Water Willy-nilly Flowing; And Out Of It, As Wind Along The Wate, I Know Not Whither, Willy-nilly Blowing.