He writes in characters too grand
For our short sight to understand;
We catch but broken strokes, and try
To fathom all the mystery
Of withered hopes, of death, of life,
The endless war, the useless strife,-
But there, with larger, clearer sight,
We shall see this - His way was right.
John Oxenham, 1913
This speaks volumes to what my family has been going through lately. More to come on that later...