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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
245
THE DOUBTER
Thou Christ, my soul is hurt and bruised!
With words the scholars wear me out;
My brain o'erwearied and confused,
Thee, and myself, and all I doubt.
With words the scholars wear me out;
My brain o'erwearied and confused,
Thee, and myself, and all I doubt.
And must I back to darkness go
Because I cannot say their creed?
I know not what I think; I know
Only that thou art what I need.
Because I cannot say their creed?
I know not what I think; I know
Only that thou art what I need.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |