Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

And feet like sunny gems on an English green.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.

And so the Word had breath, and wrought/ With human hands the creed of creeds/ In loveliness of perfect deeds,/ More strong than all poetic thought.

The shell must break before the bird can fly.

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.