Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) By William Barnes |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
THE TRIAL PAST. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
 | Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) |  |
123
THE TRIAL PAST.
How sorrowful was life, the while
My God, in love, withheld his smile;
And though He kept me in His sight,
Yet gave my pining soul no light
To show my darksome goings right:
And yet would find me holding fast
To promises of seasons past,
Enduring to the end.
My God, in love, withheld his smile;
And though He kept me in His sight,
Yet gave my pining soul no light
To show my darksome goings right:
And yet would find me holding fast
To promises of seasons past,
Enduring to the end.
The scorn of men who, yet untried,
Amid their blessings walked in pride,
I stole, with stricken heart, alone,
To shady tree or mossy stone,
Where no soul else consoled my own;
And no tongue spoke a healing word,
And all my prayers seem'd unheard,
Enduring to the end.
Amid their blessings walked in pride,
I stole, with stricken heart, alone,
To shady tree or mossy stone,
Where no soul else consoled my own;
And no tongue spoke a healing word,
And all my prayers seem'd unheard,
Enduring to the end.
124
But still, in all that lived around,
And cleft the air, or walk'd the ground,
I saw there was not, could not be,
A want His love did not foresee,
And that He lov'd all else but me;
And why not me? I thought, too blest
To think myself among the rest,
And waited for the end.
And cleft the air, or walk'd the ground,
I saw there was not, could not be,
A want His love did not foresee,
And that He lov'd all else but me;
And why not me? I thought, too blest
To think myself among the rest,
And waited for the end.
So by His spirit's sweet controul,
In patience I possess'd my soul,
And walk'd my guileless path, and drew
Sweet solace from His plants that grew
So blest by sun, and air, and dew;
And all that lived around me, fed
By His love-given daily bread,
Enduring to the end.
In patience I possess'd my soul,
And walk'd my guileless path, and drew
Sweet solace from His plants that grew
So blest by sun, and air, and dew;
And all that lived around me, fed
By His love-given daily bread,
Enduring to the end.
But now his smile at last has blest
My heart again with joyful rest,
How melting is the backward thought
That twas His love alone that wrought,
What I had deem'd His anger brought.
So blest is he that can abide
His day of sorrowing when tried,
Enduring to the end.
My heart again with joyful rest,
How melting is the backward thought
That twas His love alone that wrought,
What I had deem'd His anger brought.
So blest is he that can abide
His day of sorrowing when tried,
Enduring to the end.
| Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) | |