To a Devotee

Rise from your knees, sick-thoughted sufferer!Prayer doth but serve to emasculate the soul,To morbid thoughts holding it prisoner,And sinking it in ever-deeper dole.Mistrust of self is cowardice at best,Prayer unavailing adds but to your pain:'Tis active work, not passive prayer, makes blest,Your sin's the figment of a brooding brain.Stand up and be no more a suppliant slave:Is God a Genghiz Khan or Tamerlane?All nature thunders forth one precept brave—Courage alone the prize of life shall gain.Weakness above all else the fates despise,The fearless-hearted only are the wise.