| Liberalism |  |
| By John Henry Newman | |||
| Tuesday, 08 September 2009 | |||
| Ye cannot halve the Gospel of God's grace; Men of presumptuous heart! I know you well. Ye are of those who plan that we should dwell, Each in his tranquil home and holy place; Seeing the Word refines all natures rude, And tames the stirrings of the multitude. And ye have caught some echoes of its lore, As heralded amid the joyous choirs;
Ye mark'd it spoke of peace, chastised desires,
Good-will and mercy, - and ye heard no more;
But, as for zeal and quick-eyed sanctity,
And the dread depths of grace, ye pass'd them by
And so ye halve the Truth; for ye in heart, At best, are doubters whether it be true,
The theme discarding, as unmeet for you,
Statemen or Sages. O new-compass'd art
Of the ancient Foe! - but what if it extends
O'er our own camp, and rules amid our friends?
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