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1868–1950

MOURNIN’ FOR RELIGION

Edgar Lee Masters

Brothers and sisters, I'm mournin’ for religion, But I can n't get religion, it's my woman interferin’. I sing and I pray, and I'm real perseverin’, But I can n't get religion,

That's all I have to say. I know there is a fountain, a Jesus, a comforter, A heaven, a Jerusalem, a day of Pentecost, Salvation for the wishin’, blood for sin's remission,

A covenant, a promise for souls that are lost. But I can n't get religion, the salvation feelin’, The vision of the Lamb, forgiveness and healin’. I have a sort of numbness

When I see the mourners kneelin’. I have a kind of dumbness When the preacher is appealin’. I have a kind of wariness, even contrariness,

Even while I'm fearin’ The bottomless pit and the shut gates of heaven. It's my woman interferin’ — For you see when they say:

Come to the mercy seat, come, come, The spirit and the bride Say come, come, I think of my woman who bore so many children;

I think of her a cookin’ for harvesters in summer; I think of her a lyin’ there, a dyin’ there, the neighbors Who came in to fan her and how she never murmured; And then I seem to grow number and number,

And something in me says: Why did n't Jesus help her for to die, Why did Jesus always pass her by, Let her break her health down as I was growing poorer,

Let her lie and suffer with no medicine to cure her, I would n't treat a stray dog as Jesus acted to her. If these are devil words, I'm a child of the devil. And this is why I'm dumb

As the spirit and the bride say come! I am old and crippled — sixty in December. And I wonder if it's God that stretches out and hands us Troubles we remember?

I'm alone besides, I need the Comforter, All the children's grown up, livin’ out in Kansas. My old friend Billy died of lung fever.... But the worst of it is I'm really a believer,

Expect to go to hell if I do n't get religion. And I need this religion to stop this awful grievin’ About my woman lyin’ there in the cemetery, And you can n't stop that grievin’ simply by believin’.

So I mourn for religion, I mourn for religion, My old heart breaks for religion!

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MOURNIN’ FOR RELIGION · Edgar Lee Masters · Poetry Cove