When I was young I did accept
the creed that I was taught,
I loved the language of our prayers
nor thought to question aught.
I loved the voices raised in hymns,
believed sincerity
was truly shown in those clasped hands
and in each bended knee.
I too gazed upwards and believed,
those mansions in the sky
were recompense for goodly lives
- even for such as I.
There I would meet those blèssed souls
departed long before,
and hold them in my arms again
- together - evermore.
But in these later days I see
that simple faith I knew,
no longer simple, is attacked,
questioned and doubted too.
So were those wondrous stories
intended to deceive?
what of Heaven and its glories?
- I wish I could believe...
I wish, I wish I could believe,
but our beliefs are vain
if, parting with the ones we loved,
we never meet again.
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