To have faith is both hope and fear, Two sides entwined, a bond held dear. The farmer sows, his heart at ease, Yet fears the drought, the blight, disease.
Hope fills his heart, it lifts his way, With wings that bear him day by day. The higher he soars, the harder he tries, Like medicine’s taste, bitter but wise.
In hope he labors, free from rest, His spirit’s aim, a soul possessed. For faith’s true strength, both fierce and kind, Lives where hope and fear entwine.
The Creator, in wisdom, closes some eyes, Not to deny them, but let them rise To hands and hearts that shape the earth, Giving dreams of stone and steel their birth.
For spirit’s call is a lofty weight, But some must walk a worldly fate, So temples and towers might reach the sky, And fields of green and cities lie.
Thus, hidden from mysteries deep and wide, They build the world where spirits reside.
