Man in Transition

Ever we chase Thee through the years

Across the fields of destiny,

Or hobbled by our hopes and fears

Stumble on towards entropy,

Visionless, profess to know

The meaning of our sojourn here,

The candles of our minds aglow

In reason's stifling atmosphere.

The touchstone of the soul we need

To separate the dross from gold,

A soil in which to plant the seed,

A flame of faith that shall uphold

The spirit's quest upon our earth,

As nearer draws the Godhead's birth.