Beyond, the hills for which I sighed— Beyond, the valleys still and fair— Beyond, the meadows stretching wide, And all the shining fields of air!
What does it mean, O Father! when Thy children reach some closéd gate, Which, though they knock and knock again, Will not its watch and ward abate?
Still shall they batter at the walls? Or still, like children, cry and fret, While the loud clamor of their calls Swells high in turbulent regret?
When thou hast barred the door, shall they Challenge thy wisdom, God of love? Or humbly wait beside the way Till thou the barrier shalt remove?
Too oft we cannot hear thee speak, So loud our voices and our prayers, While to the patient and the meek The gate thou openest unawares!
CONTENT
Not asking how or why, Before thy will, O Father, let my heart Lie hushed and still!
Why should I seek to know? Thou art all-wise; If thou dost bid me go, Let that suffice.
If thou dost bid me stay, Make me content In narrow bounds to dwell Till life be spent.