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THE PEACE OF GOD.
E ask for Peace, oh Lord !
Thy children ask Thy Peace;
Not what the world calls rest,
Calm Life should fleet away,
In smiling day ;-
We ask for Peace, oh Lord !
Yet not to stand secure,
Contented to endure :
That human hearts should know,
Or others' woe;-
We ask Thy Peace, oh Lord !
Through storm, and fear, and strife,
Through a long struggling life:
Shall cheer the desperate fight,
Our wasted might :-
It is Thine own, oh Lord,
Who toil while others sleep;
What other hands shall reap:
In calm and perfect rest:
Divine and blest,
LIFE IN DEATH AND DEATH IN
F the dread day that calls thee hence,
Through a red mist of fear should loom,
(Closing in deadliest night and gloom Long hours of aching dumb suspense,)
And leave me to my lonely doom.
I think, beloved, I could see
In thy dear eyes the loving light
Glaze into vacancy and night, And still
“ God is good to me, And all that He decrees is right.”
That, watching thy slow struggling breath,
And answering each imperfect sign,
I still could pray thy prayer and mine, And tell thee, dear, though this was death,
That God was love, and love divine.
Could hold thee in my arms, and lay
Upon my heart thy weary head,
And meet thy last smile ere it fled; Then hear, as in a dream, one say,
“Now all is over,--she is dead."
Could smooth thy garments with fond care,
And cross thy hands upon thy breast,
And kiss thine eyelids down to rest, And yet say no word of despair,
But, through my sobbing, “ It is best.”
Could stifle down the gnawing pain,
“ We still divide our life, She has the rest, and I the strife, And mine the loss, and hers the gain :
My ill with bliss for her is rife.”
Then turn, and the old duties take
Alone now—yet with earnest will
Gathering sweet sacred traces still To help me on, and, for thy sake,
My heart and life and soul to fill.
I think I could check vain weak tears,
And toil, although the world's great space
Held nothing but one vacant place, And see the dark and weary years
Lit only by a vanished grace.
And sometimes, when the day was o'er,
Call up the tender past again :
Its painful joy, its happy pain, And live it over yet once more,
“ But few more years remain.”
And then, when I had striven my best,
And all around would smiling say,
“ See how Time makes all grief decay,” Would lie down thankfully to rest,
And seek thee in eternal day.
But if the day should ever rise
It could not and it cannot be
Yet, if the sun should ever see, Looking upon us from his skies,
A day that took thy heart from me;