He’s the false copy where each feature’s wrong,
Yet so disposed the whole gives a resemblance. …
When he forgives
It is for love of sin not of the sinner. …
His vast indulgence is so free and ample,
You well might think it universal love,
For all seems goodness, sweetness, harmony.
He is the Lie; one true thought, and he’s gone.
From “Antichrist” by Edwin Muir