A poem by Theodosia Garrison

Your chosen grasp the torch of faith--the key
Of very certainty is theirs to hold.
They read Your word in messages of gold.
Lord, what of us who have no light to see
And in the darkness doubt, whose hands may be
Broken upon the door, who find but cold
Ashes of words where others see enscrolled,
The glorious promise of Life's victory.

Oh, well for those to whom You gave the light
(The light we may not see by) whose award
Is that sure key--that message luminous,
Yet we, your people stumbling in the night,
Doubting and dumb and disbelieving--Lord,
Is there no word for us--no word for us?

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