Whilst everything is dark, I see but one light, It comes to me, so subtle in it's way. Gently it floats in the air, as if a present from thy God. It draws near. Dost thou see it? That gentle light that dost shine? Or is thy light simply in mine own eye? I reach out. Just as mine finger does touch it, it's gone. Me thinks it was splendid, like a present presented from another, to thine heart. But like a present given in haste it so quickly disappears.