I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro' darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.
Alfred Lord TennysonAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: english
- Born: August 6, 1809
- Died: October 6, 1892
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His was the holiest face I ever saw. My very name turned holy on his tongue. If he had bade me rise and follow to the end of time, I would have gone. If he had bade me die for him, I would have died. When I deserved it least, God gave me most. I think it was the savior's face I saw.
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'Ne?'
'ehir Efendisinin insan hizmetkarmsn?
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