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Henry Van Dyke - Reliance
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Not to the swift, the race: 
        Not to the strong, the fight: 
Not to the righteous, perfect grace: 
        Not to the wise, the light. 

        But often faltering feet
        Come surest to the goal; 
And they who walk in darkness meet
        The sunrise of the soul.

        A thousand times by night
      The Syrian hosts have died; 
A thousand times the vanquished right
      Hath risen, glorified.

      The truth the wise men sought
      Was spoken by a child; 
The alabaster box was brought
      In trembling hands defiled.

      Not from my torch, the gleam, 
      But from the stars above: 
Not from my heart, life`s crystal stream, 
      But from the depths of Love.
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