“Faith” is a thing with small wings

“Faith” is a thing with small wings–
That waits within your soul–
And sings its music without words–
And won’t stop, not at all–

Still sonorous among much rain–
And strong is any storm–
That could abash this tiny Bird
Through whom many stay warm–

It sounds off in cold, distant lands–
Nothing striking it dumb–
But from all us that harbor it
It will not ask a crumb.

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