The Finding of The Book and Other Poems By William Alexander |
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FREEWILL
If God be love, will He not cause His sun
Of happiness one day its beams to thrust
Alike upon the just and the unjust,
His silver rain to fall on every one?
Not highest to the highest bliss alone,
Nor dearest love that loves because it must,
Nor trust much trusted if constrain'd to trust.
What, when the battle of our lives is done,
Hath God reserved for His peculiar prize?
The willing, undivided human soul.
Were hearts unwilling forced to will God's will,
For them, unfreely freed, mere lucid skies
Their home would be, love's self a harsh control,
And half the Heaven's long music lose its thrill.
The Finding of The Book and Other Poems | ||