Doubt

   They bade me cast the thing away,
They pointed to my hands all bleeding,
They listened not to all my pleading;
   The thing I meant I could not say;
   I knew that I should rue the day
   If once I cast that thing away.

   I grasped it firm, and bore the pain;
The thorny husks I stripped and scattered;
If I could reach its heart, what mattered
   If other men saw not my gain,
   Or even if I should be slain?
   I knew the risks; I chose the pain.

   O, had I cast that thing away,
I had not found what most I cherish,
A faith without which I should perish,
   The faith which, like a kernel, lay
   Hid in the husks which on that day
   My instinct would not throw away!

--Helen Hunt Jackson

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