 To the Old Pagan Religion by H. P. Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org by Andrea Fiori. Olympian Gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God, though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, over which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or neary-ads upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul and solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. To the Old Pagan Religion by H. P. Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org by Alan Winterout. Boomcoach.blogspot.com. Olympian Gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God, though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or neary-ads upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul and solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion by H. P. Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org by Clara Snyder. Olympian Gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God, though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or neary-ads upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul and solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Olympian Gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God, though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or neary-ads upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul and solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. How can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God, though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or neary-ads upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul and solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Hannah Dowell. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God? Though mighty be his power, why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain, and to cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul and solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Jason Mills. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God? Though mighty be his power, why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Jack Lim. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads on these crystal founts, or ne-rids on the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Christine. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooden mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads on these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Lucy. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooden mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Lucy. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooden mounts, over which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no ne-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Logan L. Masterson. Nashville, Tennessee, February the 19th, 2009. agonizer.vox.com O Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jo's hosts no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no nigh-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Rhonda Federman. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jove's host no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooded mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no nigh-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Secrets. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jove's host no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooden mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no nigh-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Tricia G. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jove's host no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads in these wooden mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no nigh-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. To the Old Pagan Religion, by HP Lovecraft, read for LibriVox.org, by Tommy Hercent, Carlsbad, California, winter 2009. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jove's host no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooden mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no nigh-ads in these crystal founts, nor ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Olympian gods, how can I let ye go, and pin my faith to this new Christian creed? Can I resign the deities I know, for him who on a cross for man did bleed? How in my weakness can my hopes depend, on one lone God though mighty be his power? Why can Jove's host no more assistants lend, to soothe my pain and cheer my troubled hour? Are there no dry-ads on these wooden mounts, or which I oft in desolation roam? Are there no nigh-ads in these crystal founts, or ne-rids upon the ocean foam? Fast spreads the new, the older faith declines, the name of Christ resounds upon the air, but my wracked soul in solitude repines, and gives the gods their last received prayer.