HOW LITTLE OF OUR LIFE.(After Reading of the Earthquakes in Spain, Dec., 1887.)
How little of our life this earth must hold,
How slight, at most, in the great thought of God,
When He can see such awful ruin rolled
From out its depths, and yawning gulfs enfold
His helpless creatures, till the very sod
Implores his mercy, though his love be cold!
And while the shores yet reel where terror trod,
Across them sweep the ruthless hurricane
With thunder's roar and lightning's fiery sword,
Till shrine and home lie prone upon the plain!—
Earthquake and stormy wind fulfil his word.
How slight, at most, in the great thought of God,
When He can see such awful ruin rolled
From out its depths, and yawning gulfs enfold
His helpless creatures, till the very sod
Implores his mercy, though his love be cold!
And while the shores yet reel where terror trod,
Across them sweep the ruthless hurricane
With thunder's roar and lightning's fiery sword,
Till shrine and home lie prone upon the plain!—
Earthquake and stormy wind fulfil his word.
How little of our life this earth must keep,
How swift that life must fly to fairer spheres
When He can rend it thus, though we may weep
To sink so soon in death's relentless sleep,
And pray to pass in peace our human years—
To greet the sun, and love, and build, and reap
The harvests we have sown in toil and tears!
How swift that life must fly to fairer spheres
When He can rend it thus, though we may weep
To sink so soon in death's relentless sleep,
And pray to pass in peace our human years—
To greet the sun, and love, and build, and reap
The harvests we have sown in toil and tears!
