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.