Friday's Child

He told us we were free to choose But, children as we were, we thought--- "Paternal Love will only use Force in the last resort On those too bumptious to repent." Accustomed to religious dread, It never crossed our minds He meant Exactly what He said. Perhaps He frowns, perhaps He grieves, But it seems idle to discuss If anger or compassion leaves The bigger bangs to us. What reverence is rightly paid To a Divinity so odd He lets the Adam whom He made Perform the Acts of God? It might be jolly if we felt Awe at this Universal Man (When kings were local, people knelt); Some try to, but who can? The self-observed observing Mind We meet when we observe at all Is not alariming or unkind But utterly banal. Though instruments at Its command Make wish and counterwish come true, It clearly cannot understand What It can clearly do. Since the analogies are rot Our senses based belief upon, We have no means of learning what Is really going on, And must put up with having learned All proofs or disproofs that we tender Of His existence are returned Unopened to the sender. Now, did He really break the seal And rise again? We dare not say; But conscious unbelievers feel Quite sure of Judgement Day. Meanwhile, a silence on the cross, As dead as we shall ever be, Speaks of some total gain or loss, And you and I are free To guess from the insulted face Just what Appearances He saves By suffering in a public place A death reserved for slaves.