And so the Word had breath, and wrought/ With human hands the creed of creeds/ In loveliness of perfect deeds,/ More strong than all poetic thought.

Believe me, than in half the creeds.

Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, moulding men.

Drink to lofty hopes that cool -/ Visions of a perfect State.

Do they not see that We have created cattle for them, out of what Our hands have wrought, so they are their masters? / And We have subjected them to them, so some of them they have to ride upon, and some of them they eat.