What thou of God and of thyself dost know,
So know that none can force thee to forego;
For oh! his knowledge is a worthless art,
Which, while it forms not of himself a part,
The foremost man he meets with readier skill
In sleight of words, can rob him of at will.
Faith feels not of her lore more sure nor less,
If all the world deny it or confess:
Did the whole world exclaim, 'Like Solomon,
Thou sittest high on Wisdom's noblest throne,'
She would not, than before, be surer then,
Nor draw more courage from the assent of men.
Or did the whole world cry, 'Oh, fond and vain!
What idle dream is this which haunts thy brain?'
To the whole world Faith boldly would reply,
'The whole world can, but I can never, lie.'