GRIEF WAS SENT THEE FOR THY GOOD.
I
In the scenes of former pleasure,
Present anguish hast thou felt?
O'er thy fond heart's dearest treasure,
As a mourner hast thou knelt?
In the hour of deep affliction,
Let no impious thought intrude,
Meekly bow, with this conviction—
Grief was sent thee for thy good.
II
Some there are who seem exempted
From the doom incurr'd by all.
Are they not more sorely tempted!
Are they not the first to fall?
As a mother's firm denial
Checks her infant's wayward mood,
Wisdom lurks in ev'ry trial:
Grief was sent thee for thy good.