Is faith a dream, a spell, a trick?
A hope deferred, a heart grown sick?
A distant ache for Eden fair?
A ghastly dagger to beware?

Must doctrine charm, then chase away
The light of reason’s cloudy day,
By mystic mantras to possess
Enfeebled minds with confidence?

Lord, save me from the smug pretense
That dares no question dire, intense,
But while I crave this virtue true,
Pray, rescue from my questions, too.

Ed Morris, 2011

This page copyright © 2011 Edward A. Morris.  Created May 25, 2011.  Last updated May 25, 2011.

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