Still be kind though the way is dark;
God saves some in a helpless Ark.
Don’t be cross, for a mighty host
Now looks on; not a word is lost.
What is earth, and its riches what?
Soon all past, and its gold forgot.
Don’t be cross, for the iron pen
Still writes on; for the great Amen
Summons each to the shining throne,
There to meet every word his own.