The Need To Have A Strong Mind
I speak of a mind made of iron by grace,
Not sharpened for ruin, nor bent toward dread,
But tempered in fire that mercy has made,
Its sigil of good on the thoughts it has fed.
For dreams—ah, the dreams that the gentle mind keeps,
Are not of the crypt nor the raven’s despair,
But of luminous valleys where conscience still sleeps
In the hush of a dawn that is faithful and fair.
The people are there, and the land is there too,
And the sky—how it arches in midnight’s deep blue;
We all see that firmament, distant yet near,
One vault over sorrow, one silence sincere.
It is Sunday morning somewhere on Earth,
Where bells or birds mark a moment of birth;
Where living is loving, though once it may be,
Yet once is eternity, if given freely.
Love is the child that the bright spirit made,
Born not of shadow, nor ever afraid;
A light that the strong-minded dare to employ—
Not to conquer the world, but to keep it from void.
So guard thou the mind, let its rigor be kind,
Let its power be chosen for good, well-aligned;
For the soul that loves rightly, though darkness be near,
Makes a dawn in the night that even Paul might revere.
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