MY SONG.
229
Each thwarted plan and blighted hope,
Nerves me with future ill to cope;
And every bitter cup seems given,
To sweeten thought of rest and heaven.
Nerves me with future ill to cope;
And every bitter cup seems given,
To sweeten thought of rest and heaven.
The web of life hath mingled hues,
Which should prevail, I dare not choose;
Enough that in my every care,
I've met an angel unaware.
Which should prevail, I dare not choose;
Enough that in my every care,
I've met an angel unaware.
The way to Paradise must be
By Calvary, through Gethsemane,
Then what though clouds above me lower—
Can I not watch with Him one hour?
By Calvary, through Gethsemane,
Then what though clouds above me lower—
Can I not watch with Him one hour?
As speeds from well-trained hand the stone,
So quickly life's brief day is flown;
With scarce a ripple on Time's wave,
Between the cradle and the grave.
So quickly life's brief day is flown;
With scarce a ripple on Time's wave,
Between the cradle and the grave.
As best for all—may coming years
Blend sun and shadow, smiles and tears;
Each life is part of one great plan—
So ends my song, as it began.
Blend sun and shadow, smiles and tears;
Each life is part of one great plan—
So ends my song, as it began.
