Chapter II

How little our true majesty is shown
In these proud minds by which we are confessed
Traitors so often, recreants at best--
Unworthy of life’s greatness and our own.
Not by the mind we shall be judged alone,
Who are much more than in the mind is guessed.
By faith we live. The heart in every breast
Labors, believing, toward the end unknown.

Through the shrill mind, in terror and defeat,
The ancient flood of holy being roars;
The gallant heart again and yet again--
Jetting fierce streams of faith--with every beat,
In sacramental affirmation, pours
Life’s answer through the unbelieving brain.