When I doubt my doubts and my convictions too,

When all beliefs seem equally true,

When scholars quarrel over mysteries,

Loudly indignant of my uncertainty.

When pious priests bedecked in jewels

And clashing atheists brand me a fool,

When my spirits sag and refuse to soar

And all around claim more and more.

Then I shall find comfort within your inviting breast

And leave quarrels to others while I quietly rest.