Arthur Hugh Clough’s poem “There Is No God, the Wicked Sayeth” is an unsentimental look at how people’s ideas about God shift with their circumstances. A wicked man is relieved there’s no deity to answer to; a young man grumbles that a God wouldn’t want him to stay childish; a tradesman hopes God won’t mind a little cheating. The rich don’t care because they’re well fed. The speaker notes, with a sly wink, that many people don’t even think about God as long as they’re healthy and comfortable.
But the poem doesn’t stop at cynicism. It shows that hardship and vulnerability—country roots, marriage, young love, guilt, old age, or grief—tend to make people believe, or at least suspect, that “there is a God, or something very like Him.” The tone is warm and worldly-wise, never judgmental. It captures the very human habit of reaching for something larger when we need it most.