(I wrote this poem in 1979.)

When one comes in a never-uttered name
God wins the glory for all that is done:
It’s in hoping for what cannot be claimed
That every inch of justice is won.

We hope alone for the hard-to-conceive,
And so we see more of what has occurred;
We listen for groanings we’ve yet to perceive,
And so hear more than we might have heard.

Our hope is God’s eye for creation’s tendency
From it comes the gift of living patiently….