Of mass and
confession
both thou'st long begun to tire.
Faust, a Tragedy by Goethe
I know thou art a dear good man,
But fear thy thoughts do not run much that way.
_Faust_. Leave that, my child! Enough, thou hast my heart;
For those I love with life I'd freely part;
I would not harm a soul, nor of its faith bereave it.
_Margaret_. That's wrong, there's one true faith--one must believe it?
_Faust_. Must one?
_Margaret_. Ah, could I influence thee, dearest!
The holy sacraments thou scarce reverest.
_Faust_. I honor them.
_Margaret_. But yet without desire.
Of mass and confession both thou'st long begun to tire.
Believest thou in God?
_Faust_. My. darling, who engages
To say, I do believe in God?
The question put to priests or sages:
Their answer seems as if it sought
To mock the asker.
_Margaret_. Then believ'st thou not?
_Faust_. Sweet face, do not misunderstand my thought!
Who dares express him?
And who confess him,
Saying, I do believe?
A man's heart bearing,
What man has the daring
To say: I acknowledge him not?
The All-enfolder,
The All-upholder,
Enfolds, upholds He not
Thee, me, Himself?
Upsprings not Heaven's blue arch high o'er thee?
Underneath thee does not earth stand fast?
