True, wealth thou hast not: 'tis but dust!
Nor place; uncertain as the wind!
But that thou hast, which, with thy crust
And water, may despise the lust
Of both—a noble mind.
With this and passions under ban,
True faith, and holy trust in God,
Thou art the peer of any man.
Look up, then—that thy little span
Of life, may be well trod!
* * * * *
=John G. Whittier, 1808-.= (Manual, pp. 490, 522.)
=372.= WHAT THE VOICE SAID.
Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil,
"Lord," I cried in sudden ire,
"From thy right hand, clothed with thunder,
Shake the bolted fire!
"Love is lost, and Faith is dying;
With the brute, the man is sold;
And the dropping blood of labor
Hardens into gold."
* * * * *
"Thou, the patient Heaven upbraiding,"
Spake a solemn Voice within;
"Weary of our Lord's forbearance,
Art thou free from sin?"
* * * * *