Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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[What, many times I musing asked, is man] |
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[What, many times I musing asked, is man]
What, many times I musing asked, is man,
If grief and care
Keep far from him? he knows not what he can,
What cannot bear.
If grief and care
Keep far from him? he knows not what he can,
What cannot bear.
He, till the fire hath proved him, doth remain
The main part dross:
To lack the loving discipline of pain
Were endless loss.
The main part dross:
To lack the loving discipline of pain
Were endless loss.
Yet when my Lord did ask me on what side
I were content
The grief, whereby I must be purified,
To me were sent,
I were content
The grief, whereby I must be purified,
To me were sent,
As each imagined anguish did appear,
Each withering bliss,
Before my soul, I cried, ‘Oh! spare me here,
Oh no, not this!—’
Each withering bliss,
Before my soul, I cried, ‘Oh! spare me here,
Oh no, not this!—’
Like one that having need of, deep within,
The surgeon's knife,
Would hardly bear that it should graze the skin,
Though for his life.
The surgeon's knife,
Would hardly bear that it should graze the skin,
Though for his life.
Till He at last, who best doth understand
Both what we need,
And what can bear, did take my case in hand,
Nor crying heed.
Both what we need,
And what can bear, did take my case in hand,
Nor crying heed.
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