Words oft doth fail the laurels of true intent to gain;
I thus confess my pen’s inadequacy to that crown.
Faith’s fulsome lips defy description, language is but vain;
Yet I press on perchance that even in defeat lies renown.
O for a verbal torch, to pierce this precious pair;
To sow within them the seed of Word of Love.
For they be but the gate and stair,
To Faith’s heart, equally all words-above.
The heart is fertile haven to unworthy words of praise;
It seems to understand and cherish ne’er-the-less.
There uttered seed is nourished and sprinkled through its mystic ways;
Bringing forth a tree-of-fruition all to Bless.
Then give birth those lips in poetic victory without remiss,
To the finest couplet e’er yet penned by God or Man: Faith’s Most Holy Kiss!