Faith is the prayer of words unsaid,
The tear that falls upon the bed.
Faith is the hope of one "Amen",
The will that trusts and tries again.
Faith is the day made fresh and new
When evening draught absorbs the dew.
Faith is the thought that lifts to bless
The One beyond the arms' caress.
Faith is the sky that leaves its gray
To welcome in a sunny day.
Faith, in a moment, dares the thing
The heart petitions God to bring.
TRUTH: knowing we are integral to the Whole. Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe. There is an inmost centre in us all Where truth abides in fullness; and around Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perception — which is truth. A baffling and perverting carnal mesh Blinds it, and makes all error, and, to KNOW Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light Supposed to be without.
~ from "Paracelsus" by Robert Browning