LXXXVIII.
“But didst Thou not, the deep sea brightly treading,
Lift from despair that struggler with the wave?
And wert Thou not, sad tears, yet awful, shedding,
Beheld a weeper at a mortal’s grave?
And is this weight of anguish, which they bind
On life—this searing to the quick of mind,
That but to God its own free path would crave—
This crushing out of hope, and love, and youth,
Thy will, indeed? Give light! that I may know the truth!