Sermons in stones are familiar, but few take the trouble to dig
them out. Certainly none looks for sermons in a one-cent evening
newspaper.
At the same time, will you kindly think over and answer the
question that heads this column?
Here we are, marooned for a few days on a flying ball of earth.
We don't know how we got here. We don't know where we are going.
We are full of beautiful and satisfying FAITH. But we don't
KNOW.
Into this Universe, and WHY not knowing,
Nor WHENCE, like Water, willy-nilly flowing;
And out of it as Wind along the Waste,
I know not WHITHER, willy-nilly blowing.