The Stake and the Plumb-Line

One who never turned his back, but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake.”

The end comes as came the beginning, And shadows fail into the past; And the goal, is it not worth the winning, If it brings us but home at the last?

While far through the pain of waste places We tread, ‘tis a blossoming rod That drives us to grace from disgraces, From the fens to the gardens of God!’”