O Yet We Trust

Lyrics

Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill To pangs of nature, sins of will Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd Or cast as rubbish to the void When God hath made the pile complete; That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire Or but subserves another's gain Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last -- far off -- at last, to all And every winter change to spring So runs my dream: but what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry