By A Divine Paradox, Wherever

Sorrows Come To Stretch Out Places In The Heart For Joy.

At The Heart Of The Cyclone Tearing The Sky And Flinging The Cloud And The Towers By, Is A Place Of Central Calm: So Here In The Roar Of Mortal Things, I Have A Place Where My Spirit Sings, In The Hollow Of God's Palm.

No Soul Can Be Forever Banned, Eternally Bereft, Whoever Falls From God's Right Hand Is Caught Into His Left.

Bowed By The Weight Of Centuries He Leans Upon His Hoe And Gazes On The Ground, The Emptiness Of Ages In His Face, And On His Back The Burden Of The World.

Defeat May Serve As Well As Victory To Shake The Soul And Let The Glory Out.