They leave us with the Infinite.
But He — is not a man —
His fingers are the size of fists —
His fists, the size of men —
And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand —
Gibraltar’s Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,
So trust him, Comrade —
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.