Faust. Fear not! thou know'st I love thee well: and know For whom I love my life's last drop shall flow! For other men, I have nor wish nor need To rob them of their church, or of their creed. Margaret. That's not enough; you must believe it too! Faust. Must I? Margaret. Alas! that I might work some change on you! Not even the holy mass do you revere. Faust. I do revere 't. Margaret. Yes, but without desire. At mass and at confession, too, I fear, Thou hast not shown thyself this many a year. Dost thou believe in God? Faust. My love, who dares aspire To say he doth believe in God? May'st ask thy priests and sages all, Their answer seems like mockery to fall Upon the asker's ear. Margaret. Then thou dost not believe? Faust. Misunderstand me not, thou sweet, angelic face! Who dares pronounce His name? And who proclaim-- I do believe in Him? And who dares presume To utter--I believe Him not? The All-embracer, The All-upholder, Grasps and upholds He not Thee, me, Himself? Vaults not the Heaven his vasty dome above thee? Stand not the earth's foundations firm beneath thee? And climb not, with benignant beaming, Up heaven's slope the eternal stars? Looks not mine eye now into thine? And feel'st thou not an innate force propelling Thy tide of life to head and heart, A power that, in eternal mystery dwelling, Invisible visible moves beside thee? Go, fill thy heart therewith, in all its greatness, And when thy heart brims with this feeling, Then call it what thou wilt, Heart! Happiness! Love! God! I have no name for that which passes all revealing! Feeling is all in all; Name is but smoke and sound, Enshrouding heaven's pure glow. Margaret. All that appears most pious and profound; Much of the same our parson says, Only he clothes it in a different phrase. Faust. All places speak it forth; All hearts, from farthest South to farthest North, Proclaim the tale divine, Each in its proper speech; Wherefore not I in mine? Margaret. When thus you speak it does not seem so bad, And yet is your condition still most sad: Unless you are a Christian, all is vain. Faust. Sweet love! Margaret. Henry, it gives me pain, More than my lips can speak, to see Thee joined to such strange company. Faust. How so? Margaret. The man whom thou hast made thy mate, Deep in my inmost soul I hate; Nothing in all my life hath made me smart So much as his disgusting leer. His face stabs like a dagger through my heart! Faust. Sweet doll! thou hast no cause to fear.