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There is no God,’ the wicked saith, ‘And truly it’s a blessing, For what He might have done with us It’s better only guessing.’ ‘There is no God,’ a youngster thinks, ‘Or really, if there may be, He surely did not mean a man Always to be a baby.’ ‘There is no God, or if there is,’ The tradesman thinks, ‘’twere funny If He should take it ill in me To make a little money.’ Extract from Dipsychus, Part I by Arthur Hugh Clough
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