Some whispering voice of doubt is heard,--
That voice spontaneous from the soul,
Which nought can check and nought control;
2If when most earnestly I pray
For light, for aid, for strength from thee,
Some struggling thoughts will force their way,
And break my soul's serenity;--
If reason, thy best gift, will hold
The sceptre only half controlled:--
3Help and forgive! heaven's alphabet