Language That Tells Us, Through A More

I Don't Say What God Is, But A Name That Somehow Answers Us When We Are Driven To Feel And Think How Little We Have To Do With What We Are.

No Matter What We Are, And What We Sing, Time Finds A Withered Leaf In Every Laurel

I Cannot Find My Way: There Is No Star In All The Shrouded Heavens Anywhere

And Thus We All Are Nighing The Truth We Fear To Know: Death Will End Our Crying For Friends That Come And Go.

I Am Living On Hope And Faith ... A Pretty Good Diet When The Mind Will Receive Them.