When all the stars are sown Across the night-blue space, With the immense unknown, In silence face to face. We stand in speechless awe While Beauty marches by, And wonder at the Law Which wears such majesty. How small a thing is man In all that world-sown vast, That he should hope or plan Or dream his dream could last! O doubter of the light, Confused by fear and wrong, Lean on the heart of night And let love make thee strong! The Good that is the True Is clothed with Beauty still. Lo, in their tent of blue, The stars above the hill!