My Faith is larger than the Hills --
So when the Hills decay --
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way --
'Tis first He steps upon the Vane --
And then -- upon the Hill --
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will --
And if His Yellow feet should miss --
The Bird would not arise --
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems --
No Bells have Paradise --
How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends --
Lest Firmament should fail for me --
The Rivet in the Bands
