And all the world is vividly a-glow,
You cannot make me pause to question why
For we who dare to dream have learned to know!

THE WORLD IS RIGHT! There is a friendly One
Who smiles when we have tried to do our part --
I will not flinch, my journey's just begun. . . .
I AM MYSELF -- YOU CANNOT BREAK MY HEART!



A BABY'S HANDS

God made the rivers, the hills, and the seas,
God made the flowers, the grass, and the trees;
God made the clouds, and the waves, silver-crested,
Then God made the hands of a baby -- and rested!

How did He make them? Well, nobody knows --
Some say He dreamed of the bud of a rose,
And that He woke as the dawn swept away
Night in the dancing pink promise of day.

Maybe He thought of the light of a star,
(That's why He made them as soft as they are!)
Maybe He watched while a new butterfly,
Light as a sunbeam, went fluttering by.

Maybe He walked in a garden, dew-kissed,
That's why He made them as frail as the mist --