The Atheist
There is no God: Who tells me that this span
Of petty pain and pleasure is controlled
By other than the whim-led will of man?
He must be blind, or fool. I cannot hold
Your dreamer’s notion of a guiding hand;
There is no God whom I can understand.
The Agnostic
I do not know; there may be One above
Who sees the strange enigma of our life,
And wisely holds its key — perhaps in love;
Who overrules our struggle, knows our strife;
But it is all conjecture still, to me;
I will believe, when I can clearly see.
The Christian
I know whom I believe. The questions rise —
The problems are not few — but I have seen
The vision far transcending all surmise,
A love that plans, a strength on which I lean;
My Master rules, for faith has told me so;
I know Him whom I have believed — I know!