WEAK is the faith which we confess with shame;
The soul is strong when with an upward gaze
It looks to what is high, nor disobeys
The inward light of its ethereal flame.

But when low thoughts its own high worth defame,
It sees them with a blush, and so betrays
Its inborn nobleness, which still gainsays
The tenets that deny its godlike name.

So ever must a spiritual faith prevail,
For thought and hope and love and pure desire
Before mere sensual creeds perforce will quail,
Since human hearts are fashioned to aspire
To better things, however they may fail
In conflict with passion’s consuming fire.