We have but faith; we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam of darkness: let it grow.
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear;
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.
Forgive what seemed my sin in me;
What seem'd my worth since I began;
For merit lies from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.
--_Tennyson._