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98 FABER'S HYMNS.
So is it with our humbled souls Down in the thought of God,
Scarce conscious in their sober peace Of the wild storms abroad.
To think of Thee is almost prayer,
And is outspoken praise ; And pain can even passive thoughts
To actual worship raise.
O Lord! I live always in pain,
My life's sad undersong, — Pain in itself not hard to bear,
But hard to bear so long.
Little sometimes weighs more than much,
When it has no relief; A joyless life is worse to bear
Than one of active grief.
And yet, O Lord ! a suffering life One grand ascent may dare ;
Penance, not self-imposed, can make The whole of life a prayer.
All murmurs lie inside Thy Will Which are to Thee addressed;
To suffer for Thee is our work, To think of Thee our rest. |
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