COMPENSATIONS.
"Why must we mourn for vanished light,
For pleasures lost, as fair as fleeting,
And weep beneath the eyes of night
The memory of our morning greeting?
Is joy too weak to live alway?
Is life so fond of pale-browed sorrow,
That every hope which blooms to-day
Must fade and die before to-morrow?"
For pleasures lost, as fair as fleeting,
And weep beneath the eyes of night
The memory of our morning greeting?
Is joy too weak to live alway?
Is life so fond of pale-browed sorrow,
That every hope which blooms to-day
Must fade and die before to-morrow?"
But—"Nay,"—a voice within replied,
So sweet I could not choose but hear it,—
"God never yet hath light denied
To those whose souls can draw them near it,
Look up in trust, and see beyond
These clouds of ill, this vain repining,
A Father's strength sustained and fond,
A Father's love securely shining."
So sweet I could not choose but hear it,—
"God never yet hath light denied
To those whose souls can draw them near it,
Look up in trust, and see beyond
These clouds of ill, this vain repining,
A Father's strength sustained and fond,
A Father's love securely shining."
But doubting still and weak, I moan:
"Your heaven's too far—give something nearer;
"Your heaven's too far—give something nearer;
