And, therefore, stubbornly denies.
[Walks up and down the room.]
To pray? Ah, pray—a word that slips
Easily over all men’s lips;
A coin by all men lightly paid.
What’s prayer? In storm and stress to shout
Unto the vague Unknown for aid.
Upon Christ’s shoulders beg a place,
And stretch both hands to Heaven for grace—
While knee-deep in the slough of doubt.