Not in my way nor at my time
My heart's petitions answer gain;
I ask, and all my days are full
Of longing that I may attain.
"This time," I cry, "do not delay;
Give me the boon I ask to-day."
But opportunity goes by.
And while I pray my lips are fed
With something that I have not asked.
Nay, what I wanted not, instead.
But still the food is sweet, I find.
And leaves no taste of gall behind.
The Master's hand has blessed the gift.
And so it must be good for me;
And yet my heart goes sighing still
For that which I had hoped to see.
No pain or labour would I spare
If he would only grant this prayer.
I see the hands of others filled
With that which I have been denied;
And they care not, but scorn perchance.
Because they are so well supplied.
I see and pray {whate'er my quest),
"Lord, let me know when I am blest!"
I wander on, nor e'er forget
The treasure that I crave the most.
And think "Perhaps it is too late,
All opportunity is lost;"
When lo! I see the blessing sweet
Is lying, fair, beneath my feet!
