Creed

Creed 1968

They try to make me believe

God is not good,

that quietly, in the night,

He sends His angels

to smite the women

in purdah, to smother

the little children who

know nothing but

the fear of Baal, to silence

the strong, misguided

heads of tribes who

dimly understand

that the sun is akin

to fire in its warmth

and power

and magical in its

power to hasten growth

of their beloved figs.

But I have counted stars

on a winter night

and know that the

storehouses of snow

hold majestic beauty

and wonderful terror.

Oh, yes! To do thy will!

And yet, He has led me

who am unworthy of being called something

a little higher than the antelope

(oh graceful unsinning creature) beside

magnificent waters and

brought me through

a treacherous plain.

Can this be the one called Yahweh

who sent the Prince of Peace,

the Morning Star,

the gentle teacher of His father's Love?

They try to make me understand.

I cannot.

The proof is in His works;

this document unconnected

to His sweet antic creations.

I will believe in the Seen

and the Unseen

and turn away from the

chatter of men.

Hosannah, Praise

to the All-Good, All-Caring,

unnameable.