There may be happier times than this,
But if there are I've never known them,
When youngsters jump in bed to kiss
And wake the pa's and ma's who own them.
They miss a lot, the man and wife
Who never feel those glad hands shake them,
Who rise by day to toil and strife,
But have no little tots to wake them.
Grief's Only Master
Into the lives of all
The tears of sorrow fall.
Into the happiest hearts
Grief drives her darts;
No door however stout
Can shut Death's angel out.
Vain are the things we prize,
Treasure and pomp's disguise;
They cannot stay the tear
When the true griefs appear.
Where Death will strike to-day
Gold cannot bar the way.
There is no joy secure,
No peace that shall endure,
No smile that man shall keep.
God wills that he must weep,
And in his darkest hour
Vain is all earthly power.
What, then, should guard the gate?
How shall a man be great?
Through the dark days and long,
What power shall make him strong?
Wherein does courage lie,
Since all he loves must die?
When sorrow binds his hands,
Helpless the strong man stands.
One master only grief
Bows to, and that's belief—
Faith that he'll some day know
Why God hath willed it so!
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
[A fairy and a robin met]
[A lilac bush is a lovely thing]
[A little braver when the skies are gray]
[Always seeing the funny side]
[A possible man of affairs]
[Apples ripe for eating, and the grate fire blazing high]
[A yellow crocus bloomed to-day]