The Marks of Faith, Hymn 3

Ah! foolish world, forbear
Thine unavailing pain,
Nor needlessly declare
Our hope, and labour vain:
Tell us no more, we cannot know
On earth the heavenly powers,
Or taste the glorious bliss below,
Or feel, that God is ours.
So ignorant of God,
In sin brought up, and born,
Ye fools, be not so proud,
Suspend your idle scorn:
For us who have received our sight
Ye fain would judges be,
And make us think, there is no light,
Because you cannot see.

The same in your esteem,
Falsehood and truth ye join,
The wild pretender's dream,
And real work Divine:
Between the substance, and the show
No difference you can find,
For colours all, full well we know,
Are equal to the blind.
Wherefore from us depart,
And to each other tell
"We cannot on our heart
The written pardon feel:"
A stranger to the living Bread
Ye may beguile, and cheat,
But us you never can persuade
That honey is not sweet.