RECOMPENSE.
Not he who sins, but he who does God’s will Finds, in life’s cup, some added sorrows still; Not he who soars to heights of rank and fame, But he who climbs, is he who bears Christ’s name; Not he who wins, but he who daily tries Shall best deserve the joys of Paradise.
WHY?
Why do I love thee and how do I know That thou art the dearest of all to me? Why do the moments, wherever I go, Seem brighter and better because of thee?
Why, mid the work of the long, weary day, Are burdens of life more easy to bear? Why pause I so often, upon life’s way, To ask God’s blessing for thee in prayer?
Why does my soul, once so tempted and sad, Awaken to thoughts both noble and pure? Why does the loving thee make my heart glad,— God seem the nearer and Heaven the more sure?
Why, in my dreaming, thy voice do I hear, Thy face do I see, and feel thy caress? Why, dreaming or waking, seemeth thou near, To soothe, to comfort, to help and to bless?
I pass others by, in the crowded street, Whose faces, it may be, are fair as thine, Yet thine, thine only, to me is most sweet,— Thou only canst waken this love of mine.
Another’s low word and sweet, winning smile, Tho’ sought by many, when given to me I dare to confess can charm for awhile, But love meaneth more and I love but thee.