Mouths have they, but they speak not:
Yet something in the certainty of faith
To their disciples saith:
"Believe on me and vengeance I will wreak not."
The word that conquers death--
The immutable and boundless gift of grace--
Dwells in that stony face,
And every supplication answereth.
Mouths have they, but they speak not;
Yet one supernal will that shapes to suit
A great decree that can not be belied
Utters from voiceless lips those creeds that guide
The tribes that never heard
The living, saving Word,--
That have their dead gods and are satisfied.