Poems (Pizey)/On the Being of a God

by Susanna Pizey

ON THE BEING OF A GOD. 

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There is no God, shall daring Atheists say?
 Then tell how first this earth so fair was form'd;
What could give rise to that bright orb of day,
 Which sheds its radiant light around the world?

Say,—was it chance alone that form'd the seas,
 The mighty heavens, and all that vast expanse
Of boundless æther, and the countless stars—
 Ye subtle arguers, do ye this advance?

Is chance the cause alike of life and death,
 Of changing seasons, and of heat and cold?
Did chance bestow on all the vital breath—
 Then say, the cause of chance can ye unfold?

Say, what is chance, that it could wonders make,
 So great, so beautiful, sublime, and grand;
From what materials could it e'er create
 This wond'rous globe on which ye doubting stand:

In what a miserable state to live,
 If nothing greater than this world's your aim!
Are ye content to sink into the grave,
 And part from life, without one higher claim?

Are ye content to sleep in cold neglect,
 And will ye ev'ry hope of bliss destroy?
Awake your sleeping reason, and reflect,
 There is a God—a heaven of endless joy.