The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Man fears sometimes lest, giving up too much,
Things sweet to touch,
Things sweet to see, things lovely to possess,
He may, perhaps, proceed a step too fast,
And, yielding, cast
Upon God over-labour, over-stress.

“If I give up my dearest heart's desire,
Can God inspire
His world mine abnegation to repay?
I yield my snowdrop. Can the Lord disclose
A queenly rose
Whose glory of bloom may light my wandering way?

“Or am I casting overmuch of weight,
A care too great,
Upon the Maker of all stars and flowers?

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I shrink from giving up this longed-for thing
Lest I should fling
On God the burden of dark anxious hours.

“Each joy we quit for God, each deed we do
Noble and true
For his sake, claims its final just reward.
Sometimes to pass through self-denial's gate
I hesitate,
Lest I increase sums owed me by the Lord.

“The countless orbs are his,—star beyond star
Careering far
Through regions infinite of purpling air.
Yet can God cash me my one small star-cheque,
Or will it wreck
The starlit bank of God, presented there?”