A trust I keep, which time may not efface— To delve deep into life in search of gold Of purest heart, and virtues manifold, And through the unrelenting years to trace The vein of truth and find the hiding-place Of love's pure gem; to break away the cold And skeptic crust obscuring faith; to mold Of common clay a form of noble grace! Behold, my hands are weak, my sight unsure, And as I strive the task grows doubly great, The treasure found unlusterful and small; Yet he who gains the prize must all endure; Must labor unremittingly, and wait— With thankful heart that he may strive at all! |