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But not alone through stultifying fear
Has Stupid God me sought to make its dear,
Though such does make a way both broad and clear
For it to summon me on my approach.
To anger also does it oft me coach,
And I to anger yield, to my reproach,
Too often and to too great a degree
To be the person I would hope to be
And show my loved ones what I’d have them see.
I am too much the man that anger makes
As Stupid God thus from me reason takes
To quench a thirst that no draught ever slakes,
Yet I am not less emptied for the lack
And say words or do deeds I can’t call back.