Against the light, an infidel,
My heart, unfettered, doth rebel;
It bows before God’s sanctuary,
And idols serves, indifferently.

It sets a balance, to access
The value of its righteousness,
Ready to strike a bargain smart
With God, in resurrection’s mart.

It would have earth and heaven fulfil
All the requirements of its will,
And claims, though dust, a judge to be
With a divine authority.

Anon it will with God accord,
Anon it fights against the Lord,
Stands for a time as truth’s ally.
And then it doth the truth deny.

While in its essence void of hue,
It paints a lying image, too:
A Moses, who the part doth bear
Of prophet, and of sorcerer!

Its glance a touch of the insane
Imparteth to the prudent brain,
And yet a lancet it can use
The madman’s swelling to reduce.

When shall this traveller reach his goal,
The inner chamber of the soul,
That doth these thousand years abide
At falsehood’s shrine, in slothful pride?