Richard A. Rhem – An Archive of Sermons, Prayers, Talks and Stories

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Prologue from In Memoriam by Alfred Lord Tennyson