BELIEF.
THE pain we have to suffer seems so broad,
Set side by side with this life’s narrow span,
We need no greater evidence that God
Has some diviner destiny for man.
He would not deem it worth His while to send
Such crushing sorrows as pursue us here,
Unless beyond this fleeting journey’s end
Our chastened spirits found another sphere.
So small this world! So vast its agonies!
A future life is needed to adjust
These ill-proportioned, wide discrepancies
Between the spirit and its frame of dust.
So when my soul writhes with some aching grief.
And all my heart-strings tremble at the strain,
My Reason lends new courage to Belief,
And all God’s hidden purposes seem plain.
WHATEVER IS—IS BEST.
I KNOW as my life grows older,
And mine eyes have clearer sight—
That under each rank wrong, somewhere
There lies the root of Right;
That each sorrow has its purpose,
By the sorrowing oft unguessed,
But as sure as the sun brings morning,
Whatever is—is best.
I know that each sinful action,
As sure as the night brings shade,
Is somewhere, sometime punished,
Tho’ the hour be long delayed.
I know that the soul is aided
Sometimes by the heart’s unrest,
And to grow means often to suffer—
But whatever is—is best.
I know there are no errors,
In the great Eternal plan,
And all things work together
For the final good of man.
And I know when my soul speeds onward,
In its grand Eternal quest,
I shall say as I look back earthward,
Whatever is—is best.