Science and Sabaoth

There is a weight upon my soul,
Which darkens days till black as coal,
It binds my heart in fetters and chains,
And my mind burns fever like in pains.

These doubts turn my days to nights,
And plague my nights with terrors and frights.
Tormented by Psyche's own wight,
Lord, help me make up my mind aright.

I measure out the question in my mind,
Feeling worse than blind, an empty rind.
Does divinity exist,
Or is it just an illusion which persists,

And leads the whole world astray?
Help me please I pray,
Or do I rather just say, to myself alone,
See that's the question I bemoan.

My memory tells me there is a God,
Yet science and doubt shriek, tis a myth poorly shod.
What is verity for me to believe?
What should my heart, my mind receive?

Do you sit on a throne above?
Dolling out mercy, Justice, Judgement, and love?
Or are you just the construct of a primitive mind,
Seeking to explain phenomenas to which it was blind?

Is science the true God of our mortal flesh,
And the only immortality bound up in data's mesh?
Is the only way we can have permanence,
Through our posterity's remembrance?

I was raised up in two homes,
One preached science's another religion's tomes.
Which is to rule my heart,
To explain the universe in whole, not in part.

And Pascal's Wager is flawed,
By it I won't be overawed.
Give me arguments well reasoned,
Win my belief by logic with morality seasoned.

Shall I count my faith as dead?
Has it by science been bled,
As bone dry as the wager,
To which I refer.

For to truly serve is not for reward,
For that will never buy my sword.
I serve what I believe is right,
That is my bastion of logic and might.

So what can be my choice then?
IS scripture but the words of men,
Worthless pathos without science,
Or is it powerful divine illuminance?

The steps of my life have led thus far,
Guiding like the light of a star.
I know where my faith at last stands,
Upon Lord Sabaoth's Commands.