Discontent
THERE is no day so dark
But through the murk some ray of hope may steal.
Some blessed touch from Heaven that we might feel,
If we but chose to mark.
We shut the portals fast,
And turn the key and let no sunshine in;
Yet to the worst despair that comes through sin
God’s light shall reach at last.
We slight our daily joy,
Make much of our vexations, thickly set
Our path with thorns of discontent, and fret
At our fine gold’s alloy,
Till bounteous Heaven might frown
At such ingratitude, and, turning, lay
On our impatience burdens that would weigh
Our aching shoulders down.
We shed too many tears,
And sigh too sore, and yield us up to woe,
As if God had not planned the way we go
And counted out our years.
Can we not be content,
And lift our foreheads from the ignoble dust
Of these complaining lives, and wait with trust,
Fulfilling Heaven’s intent?
Must we have wealth and power,
Fame, beauty, all things ordered to our mind[?]
Nay, all these things leave happiness behind!
Accept the sun and shower,
The humble joys that bless,
Appealing to indifferent hearts and cold
With delicate touch, striving to reach and hold
Our hidden consciousness;
And see how everywhere
Love comforts, strengthens, helps, and saves us all;
What opportunities of good befall
To make life sweet and fair!
