Let not a moment's specious apathy
Seclude my consciousness from healing light.
Nor vague unease despoil the clarity
That sees, through error's claims of storm or blight,
The way of Christ's appointing, straight and clean,
Lucent with holy joy and tenderness,
And free from querulous voice that would demean
Man's purity or heaven's loveliness.
Not for a moment would I hesitate
Within the murk of matter's dream of pain,
Nor with false satisfaction contemplate
The spurious coin of evil's sham domain.
Let my desire, content, and whole reward
Be ever in the service of my Lord.