Faith is believing what we cannot prove.

But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.

All precious things, discover'd late, To those that seek them issue forth, For love in sequel works with fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth.

Rain, rain, and sun! A rainbow in the sky!

There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.

Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.

No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.