by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Let a valiant Faith cross swords with Death,
And Death is certain to fall;
For the dead arise with joy in their eyes -
They were not dead at all.
If this were only a world of chance,
Then faith, with its strong white spark
Could burn through the sod and fashion a God,
And set Him to shine in the dark.
So in troublesome days, and in shadowy ways,
In the dire and difficult time,
We must cling, we must cling to our Faith, and bring
Our courage to heights sublime.
It is not a matter of hugging a creed
That will lift us up to the light,
But in keeping our trust that Love is just,
And that whatever is, is right.
When the hopes of this world into chaos are hurled,
And the devil seems running the earth,
When the bad folks stay and the good pass away,
And greed fares better than worth,
Oh, that is the hour to trust in the Power
That will straighten the tangle out;
For death and sorrow are little things,
But a terrible thing is doubt.