These eyes shall see it not. But even now
There moves among the people a desire
For some firm order. Like the blind they grope,
Or those who walk in darkness, stretching out
Their hands, whose sense may take the part of sight
And feel the unseen; yet many times they fall,
Or wander from the object of their quest
For lack of eyes. Mine eyes were for the blind,
My sight was for a lamp unto their feet,
My hands to guide them; but they trusted not,