I've grasped the morning mist in search of God. I've tried dissecting sunlight and have found no joy. I'm told that it's amazing grace that steers the blessed few to Holy Ground.
But what of us? We're damned by unbelief. We're sure there's more and sure it can't be less but what it is, without some faith, none know. And I, a Doubting Thomas, will not guess.
·······  ·······
|