Doubt And Prayer

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

　　

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Tho’ Sin too oft, when smitten by Thy rod, Rail at ‘Blind Fate’ with many a vain ‘Alas’’ From sin thro’ sorrow into Thee we pass By that same path our true forefathers trod; And let not Reason fail me, nor the sod Draw from my death Thy living flower and grass, Before I learn that Love, which is, and was My Father, and my Brother, and my God! Steel me with patience! soften me with grief! Let blow the trumpet strongly while I pray, Till this embattled wall of unbelief My prison, not my fortress, fall away! Then, if Thou willest, let my day be brief, So Thou wilt strike Thy glory thro’ the day.

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