For a Revised Version

Oh, deem it not presumption, Lord,
In me to revise Thy holy Word⁠—
No jot or tittle I’d efface,
No menace dire, nor pledge of grace.
No poetry I’d blot (although it’s
Well known to Thee that I hate poets),
But humbly, reverently try
Some missing mandates to supply.
For lo! I fall of dunces ill,
Who’ve got by heart Thy written will;
I turn, behold! in tears away
From rogues Thy bidding who obey.
Wherever “Thou shalt not” occurs
I’d add “Thou shalt the exact reverse,”
And many a virtue, too, compel
(By plain command and threat of hell)
Which has no corresponding vice
To interdict in terms precise.
Thus I’d exterminate the brood
Of rascals negatively good⁠—
Men Bible-clear, who ought to smart
Beneath the lash at tail of cart.
Each soul (masks, too, would then be thinner)
If not a saint, should be a sinner.
In error, Lord, if I am found,
Observe how clouds my vision bound:
Forgive my narrowness of sight,
And bless me with the larger light
In Thine imperfect law to trace
The perfect purpose of Thy grace.