Patience Hard Thing! The Hard Thing But To Pray

Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray,

But bid for,

Patience is!

Patience who

Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks;

To do without, take tosses, and obey.  Rare patience roots in these, and, these away,

Nowhere.

Natural heart's ivy,

Patience

Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.

There she

Purple eyes and seas of liquid leaves all day.  We hear our hearts grate on themselves: it

To bruise them dearer.

Yet the rebellious

Of us we do bid God bend to him even so.  And where is he who more and more

Delicious kindness?—He is patient.

Patience

His crisp combs, and that comes those ways we know.