Poems (Hoffman)/The Cry of the Soul
THE CRY OF THE SOUL
I have done the best I could, O Lord!
Yet my cramped life writhes in pain
For the World's cold, proud, high estimates
Press over my heart like leaden weights,
'Tis so little I can attain,
Is it nothing worth to be sweet and good,
To grasp opportunities fleet and few,
To broaden my intellect's narrow view,
To be glad and earnest and brave and true?
Is there nobler womanhood
Than to live and live when 'twere rest to die,
To smile and sing when I long to cry?
Is it nothing at all, O Lord,
That my soul has striven with every sin,
Has struggled and striven alone to win
Victory over the rebel,—Me
That longs, so longs for liberty
From this narrow, cramped, dull sphere!
I have tried not to utter one sad complaint
That a burdened world could hear,
But help me, my Lord, lest at last I faint
With the burden I cannot bear;
What's the slights of a world if Thy hand doth bless?
Be Thy holy angels my witnesses,
I have done the best I could;
Like a little child from its moment's grief
I would rest in Thee 'till a sweet relief
Steals over my soul, O Lord!
Yet my cramped life writhes in pain
For the World's cold, proud, high estimates
Press over my heart like leaden weights,
'Tis so little I can attain,
Is it nothing worth to be sweet and good,
To grasp opportunities fleet and few,
To broaden my intellect's narrow view,
To be glad and earnest and brave and true?
Is there nobler womanhood
Than to live and live when 'twere rest to die,
To smile and sing when I long to cry?
Is it nothing at all, O Lord,
That my soul has striven with every sin,
Has struggled and striven alone to win
Victory over the rebel,—Me
That longs, so longs for liberty
From this narrow, cramped, dull sphere!
I have tried not to utter one sad complaint
That a burdened world could hear,
But help me, my Lord, lest at last I faint
With the burden I cannot bear;
What's the slights of a world if Thy hand doth bless?
Be Thy holy angels my witnesses,
I have done the best I could;
Like a little child from its moment's grief
I would rest in Thee 'till a sweet relief
Steals over my soul, O Lord!