All precious things discovered late To those that seek them issue forth, For Love in sequel works with Fate, And draws the veil from hidden worth - Alfred Tennyson

Our little systems have their day
They have their day and cease to be
They are but broken lights of Thee
And Thou, O L-rd, art more than they

We have but faith, we cannot know
For knowledge is of things we see
And yet we trust it comes from Thee
A beam in darkness: let it grow

Let knowledge grow from more to more
But more of reverence in us dwell
That mind and soul, according well
May make one music as before

[...] we are — / One equal temper of heroic hearts,/ Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will/ To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.