They would his faith and of its strength demand,
And all his soul’s prime motions understand.
“How!” they would say, “such we and such belief,
Such trust in heaven, and yet on earth such grief! 580
Thou art almost, my friend—thou art not all;
Thou hast not yet the self-destroying call;
Thou hast a carnal wish, perhaps a will
Not yet subdued—the root is growing still.
There is the strong man yet that keeps his own,
Who by a stronger must be overthrown;