 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
Grief
I bid thee weep but mourn not at thy lotAs though no comfort flowed for those who mourn
Thou shalt not sorrow always tears are not
But that by them thou mayst from sin be torn
Thou canst not weep for when my feet have traced
On to the goal whence I first came thy God
There every tear from memory effaced
Thou'lt smile and own as his the chastening rod
What son is he the Father does not strive
By sorrow's porch to bring to me within
The plants his hand have raised have learned to thrive
Through much affliction borne to them within
Be wise and He will lead you by the hand
Till you through tears shall see the promised land
Poem No. 215; fall 1838–summer 1839
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |