A faintish journey do I make
as through this frazzled world I wind,
with heavy heart and weary steps,
but with determined mind.
Beseech I for a flicker of
the faith that can a mountain move,
and hold that tenet close to me,
believing where I cannot prove.
The pow’r that comes when sinking low
to man who grasps for straw or rope,
will clutch til has he breathe no more
for where there’s life, there’s hope.
If my good turn be given to
my fellow man’s deficiency,
I’ll try to share my lowly gifts
of Faith and Hope and Charity.
—Anne Shannon Demarest