Two Faiths

Oh pray for me! — thou know'st what prayer I need!
What is it to be one in whose weak heart
Two faiths are lodged, while thought and feeling bleed
In the wild war; yet neither will depart?
What is it to be one, spell-drawn to stay
For the completing of his nature, trembling
Between two different characters each day,
And seem to his harsh friends to be dissembling?
Wtitch me, as thou hast watched Mosella's waves
Bringing her clear, sweet waters down from Treves,
To Neuendorf along yon southern shore
Breasting with hope the turbulent green Rhine,
Till the old flood claims both his banks once more
Pray on — pray on: like fate may yet be mine.