My Faith is larger than the Hills-
So when the Hills decay-
My Faith must take the Purple Wheel
To show the Sun the way-

'Tis first He steps upon the Vane-
And then-upon the Hill-
And then abroad the World He go
To do His Golden Will-

And if His Yellow feet should miss-
The Bird would not arise-
The Flowers would slumber on their Stems-
No Bells have Paradise-

How dare I, therefore, stint a faith
On which so vast depends-
Lest Firmament should fail for me-
The Rivet in the Bands