'Tis true, to some Good luck will come As we go life's path along; While to others here There's naught of cheer, And every thing goes wrong.
Yet we cannot know Why it is so— For a few there is peace complete; The while for some There is not a crumb From the loaf of comfort sweet.
Some know not the turmoil Of struggle and toil— Yet there's enough and to spare for those Who can live at their ease And do as they please— And their crown is entwined with the rose.
While others there are From near and afar Who by "sweat of the brow" earn their bread; And 'tis very sweet To those who may eat Who by their own efforts are fed.
As God made the rich And poor alike which Will be guarded and led not astray? And which, do you ween, Will wear the bright sheen When they get to the end of the way?
To some he sends woe— We know not why 'tis so— But he chasteneth all more or less; Where sorrow and strife And burdens are rife, These will He especially bless.
When o'er trials we sigh To Him we should fly Who doeth all things for the best; When comes the release There'll be eternal peace In that beautiful Haven of Rest.
Let the rich help the poor,— Drive the wolf from the door— In the sorrows of others take part: And He will receive All "ye who believe" And come with a pure sinless heart.
