There is no beauty in existence here:
There is no symmetry, no grace, nor charm,
No thing with which to adequately arm
Against the brutal and the insincere,
But for our faith and hope. They reappear
Like summer flowers on a pleasant farm
That wait all winter so they may disarm
The ugly environs with their colored cheer.
Yes, hope, that lifts our eyes to Him above;
And faith, that holds them always there;
Both make it possible for truth and love
To walk the earth, victorious everywhere.
All things shall fail us as we onward plod,
Unless, at times, we turn our hearts to God.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, April 18, 1944
