Liberalism

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,
Statesmen 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?