Through Every Rift Of Discovery

It Takes Something Of A Poet To Apprehend And Get Into The Depth, The Lusciousness, The Spiritual Life Of A Great Poem. And So We Must Be In Some Way Like God In Order That We May See God As He Is.

It Is Those Who Make The Least Display Of Their Sorrow Who Mourn The Deepest.

Why, Man Of Idleness, Labor Has Rocked You In The Cradle, And Nourished Your Pampered Life; Without It, The Woven Silk And The Wool Upon Your Bank Would Be In The Shepherd's Fold. For The Meanest Thing That Ministers To Human Want, Save The Air Of Heaven, Man Is Indebted To Toil; And Even The Air, In God's Wise Ordination, Is Breathed With Labor.

Mercy Among The Virtues Is Like The Moon Among The Stars ... It Is The Light That Hovers Above The Judgment Seat.

Through Every Rift Of Discovery Some Seeming Anomaly Drops Out Of The Darkness, And Falls, As A Golden Link Into The Great Chain Of Order.