Poems (Proctor)/The Cry of Job

by Edna Dean Proctor

THE CRY OF JOB. "But I will maintain mine own ways before him."

Lord, Thou knowest my heart is pure;
 Lo, I open it all to Thee;
The light of thine eyes I dare endure;
 Come with thy judgment day to me!
Hour nor moment I will not hide
 Of all I have lived beneath the sun;
What to me if the world deride?
 Into thy face I look alone.

For I am thine—thy very own;
 Thou hast fashioned me, body and soul;
Hither I sped by thy strong winds blown,
 And hence must fly to thy farthest goal.
Is the wave appalled by the mighty sea?
 Does the sunbeam dread the noontide blaze?
And shall I, who live and move in Thee,
 Tremble to prove thy blame or praise?

What is my life? alas, alas,
 Fain I would fathom it, fain forget!
But well Thou knowest I could not pass
 The bounds which Thou, thyself, didst set;
And that ever, through wrong and wreck and pain,
 I have striven to hold my course to Thee;
Shall mine be the anguish and not the gain?—
 Come with thy judgment day to me!