TROUBLE.
Gov. Geo. L. Curry.
With aching hearts we strive to bear our trouble,
Though some surrender to the killing pain;
Life's harvest-fields are full of wounding stubble,
To prove the goodness of the gathered grain.
With aching hearts we struggle on in sorrow,
Seeking some comfort in our sorest need;
The dismal day may have a bright to-morrow,
And all our troubles be as "precious seed."
As precious seed within the heart's recesses,
To germinate and grow to fruitage rare,
Of patience, love, hope, faith and all that blesses,
And forms the burden of our daily prayer.
With aching heart we cling to heaven's evangels,
The beautiful, the good, the true, the pure,
Communing with us always like good angels,
To help us in the suffering we endure.
Indeed, to suffer and sustain afflictions
Is the experience which we all acquire;
Our tribulations are the harsh restrictions
To consummations we so much desire.
With aching hearts life's battle still maintaining,
The pain, the grief, and death we comprehend,
As issues we accept without complaining,
So weary are we for the end.
