Ad Moodium

Tut! Moody, do not try to show
  To gentlemen and ladies
That if they have not “Faith,” they’ll go
  Headlong to Hades.

Faith is belief; and how can I
  Have that by being willing?
This dime I cannot, though I try,
  Believe a shilling.

Perhaps you can. If so, pray do⁠—
  Believe you own it, also.
But what seems evidence to you
  I may not call so.

Heaven knows I’d like the Faith to think
  This little vessel’s contents
Are liquid gold. I see ’tis ink
  For writing nonsense.

Minds prone to Faith, however, may
  Come now and then to sorrow:
They put their trust in truth to-day,
  In lies to-morrow.

No doubt the happiness is great
  To think as one would wish to;
But not to swallow every bait,
  As certain fish do.

To think a snake a cord, I hope,
  Would bolden and delight me;
But some day I might think a rope
  Would chase and bite me.

“Curst Reason! Faith forever blest!”
  You’re crying all the season.
Well, who decides that Faith is best?
  Why, Mr. Reason.

He’s right or wrong; he answers you
  According to your folly,
And says what you have taught him to,
  Like any polly.