"Poor heart, what bitter words we speak When God speaks of resigning!" Children, that lay their pretty garlands by So piteously, yet with a humble mind;
Sailors, who, when their ship rocks in the wind,
Cast out her freight with half-averted eye,
Riches for life exchanging solemnly,
Lest they should never gain the wished-for shore;— Thus we,
O Father, standing Thee before,
Do lay down at Thy feet without a sigh Each after each our precious things and rare,
Our dear heart-jewels and our garlands fair.
Perhaps Thou knewest that the flowers would die,
And the long-voyaged boards be found but dust:
So took'st them, while unchanged.
To Thee we trust For incorruptible treasure:
Thou art just.
