As evening's pale and solitary star But brightens while the darkness gathers round; So Faith, unmoved amidst surrounding storms, Is fairest seen in darkness most profound. 66 NEVERTHELESS, NOT AS I WILL, BUT AS THOU WILT." GRACE does not steel the faithful heart, That it should know no ill; We learn to kiss the chastening rod, But how unlike the Christian's tears, As the heart from which they sped. The saint may be compelled to meet His bosom is alive to feel The keenest pang of woe: But, ever as the wound is given, And hide where it has been. The Christian would not have his lot Be other than it is ; For, while his Father rules the world, He knows that He who gave the best, Is evil, if denied. When clouds or sorrow gather round, His bosom owns no fear ; He knows, where'er his portion be, His God will still be there. And when the threatened storm has burst, Whate'er the trial be, Something yet whispers him within, Poor nature, ever weak, will shrink From the afflictive stroke; His grateful bosom quickly learns Yields to His pleasure, and forgets The choice was not his own. 66 SEEING, THEN, THAT ALL THESE THINGS SHALL BE DISSOLVED." Ask the bird that soars on high, He could teach, if he might say, Lesser objects lost to view, All that once were bright and fair, Lose their tints and disappear. Doubt you, then, why they who rise They whose bosoms once could joy They whose hearts could sometimes feel From the world by sorrow riven, Deem not that the heart is chilled, Which, though once with anguish filled, Such emotions all forgot, Can smile and say, 'It matters not.' |