For the faith that is not broken
By the burden of the day;
For the word that is not spoken
(Dearest words are slow to say);
For the golden draught unproffered
To the thirst that thirsteth on;
For the hand that is not offered
When the struggling strength is gone;
For the sturdy heart that will not
Make a pauper of my need;
Friend, I mean sometime to thank thee,
From my soul, in truth and deed.
Wait! Some day, when I am braver,
I will do so—say so. Now
(Oh! be tender!) I am tired;
I have forgotten how.
HYMN.
FOR A BROTHER'S INSTALLATION.
Lord, are there any stones upon the way,
That tear Thy bleeding feet?
If our weak hands can move them from Thy path,
Give us that duty sweet.
Is there, O patient and pathetic Face!
One thorn upon Thy brow
That we can pluck from out Thy cruel crown?
For we would do it now.
Is there a deed so difficult for us
That none but Thou canst ask?
Thine asking be our answering. Lo! swift
Be ours that happy task.
Lord, hast Thou left Thy hungry in the world
For us to find, to feed?
Sharper the hungers of the soul. Give us
Nutrition for that need.
And hast Thou prisoners unvisited,
Whose woes our care should tell?
There is a deeper prison of the heart;
Help us to find that cell.