If This Were Faith

God, if this were enough,That I see things bare to the buffAnd up to the buttocks in mire;That I ask nor hope nor hire,Nut in the husk,Nor dawn beyond the dusk,Nor life beyond death:God, if this were faith?

Having felt thy wind in my faceSpit sorrow and disgrace.Having seen thine evil doomIn Golgotha and Khartoum,And the brutes, the work of thine hands,Fill with injustice landsAnd stain with blood the sea:If still in my veins the gleeOf the black night and the sunAnd the lost battle, run:If, an adept,The iniquitous lists I still acceptWith joy, and joy to endure and be withstood,And still to battle and perish for a dream of good:God, if that were enough?

If to feel, in the ink of the slough,And the sink of the mire,Veins of glory and fireRun through and transpierce and transpire,And a secret purpose of glory in every part,And the answering glory of battle fill my heart;To thrill with the joy of girded menTo go on for ever and fail and go on again,And be mauled to the earth and arise,And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the eyes:With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at nightThat somehow the right is the rightAnd the smooth shall bloom from the rough:Lord, if that were enough?