"For Thou Wilt Light My Candle"
Now it has stopped trembling, this hand of mine. Now--in a darkness dense as the compression within cave or cell-- behold how ir is lifting a small wax thing, all night unlit. This is the immemorial ceremony of faith: the minuscule re-enactment of a waiting-upon-- O Fire from Heaven how tenderly bequeathed! As again, at a touch, light blooms from wick.