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 painFor the World's cold, proud, high estimatesPress 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 womanhoodThan 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 winVictory over the rebel,—MeThat longs, so longs for libertyFrom this narrow, cramped, dull sphere!I have tried not to utter one sad complaintThat a burdened world could hear,But help me, my Lord, lest at last I faintWith 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 griefI would rest in Thee 'till a sweet reliefSteals over my soul, O Lord!