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THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. 217
Eternal thoughts in simplest words
Fell meekly from their tongue, While the fragrance of Eternity
To their silent presence clung.
For monthlike days, for yearlike nights,
I saw all this about me: It should have been my work; but God
Had to do the work without me.
I only saw how I had missed
A thousand things from blindness,
How all that I had done appeared Scarce better than unkindness.
How that to comfort those that mourn
Is a thing for saints to try; Yet haply God might have done less,
Had a saint been there, not I.
Alas ! we have so little grace,
With love so little burn, That the hardest of our works for God
Is to comfort those who mourn. |
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