I trace your lines of argument,
Your logic linked and strong;
I weigh, as one who dreads dissent,
And fears a doubt as wrong.
Yet in the maddening maze of things,
And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed stake my spirit clings,
I know that God is good.
The wrong that pains my soul below,
I dare not throne above:
I know not of His hate,—I know
His goodness and His love.
