Reliance

Not to the swift, the race:

       Not to the strong, the fight:

Not to the righteous, perfect grace:

       Not to the wise, the light.

       But often faltering feet

       Come surest to the goal;

And they who walk in darkness meet

       The sunrise of the soul.

       A thousand times by night

     The Syrian hosts have died;

A thousand times the vanquished right

     Hath risen, glorified.

     The truth the wise men sought

     Was spoken by a child;

The alabaster box was brought

     In trembling hands defiled.

     Not from my torch, the gleam,

     But from the stars above:

Not from my heart, life's crystal stream,

     But from the depths of Love.