That’s how I look at my end.
The night is over, the day breaks clear—
Such is your creed, my friend.
But, yours or mine, does it matter much
Which of our faiths is the true one—
Mine, with its failure a future to touch,
Or yours, so sure of a new one?
We both know nothing of what comes next,
For that is my firm belief;
’Tis waste to preach on an unproved text,