I saw in visions of still thought reveal’d, Two silent forms before me; both were fair, But yet how much unlike that voiceless pair, Except in outward beauty. One appeal’d To all, save hearts by pride and passion steel’d, With meek-eyed gentleness; and seem’d to wear Mixt with each human charm, an heavenlier air, To which humanity had wisely kneel’d. Beautiful was the other’s speechless shade, And called herself Philosophy; but proud, Cold, statue-like, she look’d upon the crowd, Who to the lovelier spirit homage paid-- Her name was Scepticism! That gentler maid Was titled _Faith_ by acclamation loud! _B. Barton._ Behold the chamber where the Christian sleeps, And where, from year to year, he prays and weeps; Whence, in the midnight watch, his prayers arise To those bright mansions where his treasure lies, How near it is to all that _Faith_ can see; How short and peaceful may his passage be! One beating pulse, one feeble struggle o’er, May open wide the everlasting door; Yes, for that bliss unspeakable unseen, Is ready, and the veil of flesh between A gentle sigh may rend, and then display The broad full splendour of an endless day. --This bright conviction elevates his mind, He presses forward, leaving all behind. Thus from his throne the tyrant foe is hurl’d-- This is the _Faith_ that overcomes the world. _Jane Taylor._ Thou ask’st why Christ so lenient to the deed, So sternly claims the _Faith_ which founds the creed; Because, reposed in _Faith_, the soul has calm; The hope a haven, and the wound a balm; Because the light, dim seen in Reason’s dream, On all alike, through _faith_ alone, could stream. God willed support to weakness, joy to grief, And so descended from His throne, BELIEF! _Sir E. B. Lytton._ To reason less is to imagine more; They most aspire, who, meekly, most adore-- Therefore the God-like Comforter’s decree-- “His sins be loosened who hath _faith_ in me.” _Sir E. B. Lytton._ O, thou that rearest with celestial aim Thy future seraph in my mortal frame, Thrice holy _Faith_! whatever thorns I meet, As on I totter with unpractised feet, Still let me stretch my arms, and cling to thee, Meek nurse of souls, through my long infancy! _Coleridge._ As evening’s pale and solitary star But brightens while the darkness gathers round; So _Faith_, unmoved amid surrounding storms, Is fairest seen in darkness most profound.