Where Shall The Word Be Found, Where

We See The Light But See Not Whence It Comes. O Light Invisible, We Glorify Thee!

The Church Must Be Forever Building, For It Is Forever Decaying Within And Attacked From Without.

For Love Would Be Love Of The Wrong Thing; There Is Yet Faith, But The Faith And The Love And The Hope Are All In The Waiting.

Not The Intense Moment Isolated, With No Before And After, But A Lifetime Burning In Every Moment.

It Is A Test (a Positive Test, I Do Not Assert That It Is Always Valid Negatively), That Genuine Poetry Can Communicate Before It Is Understood.