And what is the lesson we learn from the sleet,
As toiling life's road with wearying feet,
Upward we strive, but failing so oft
In the struggles that bear us aright and aloft?
'Tis this—that the hard breath of winter's chill blast
Alone can this mantle of loveliness cast;
And thus our sharp winds of trial may prove
Angels to weave us bright garments of love.
ANSWERED
Ye realms of beauty from afar,
What speak ye to the saddened soul?
What is the message of each star
As ever ceaselessly ye roll?
Thus do ye answer: "We declare
God's glory; and to you 'tis given
To cast on him your every care,
For he hath wound the clock of heaven."
Ye hoary hills which have looked down
On all the centuries of time,
Have felt their touch without a frown,
And with indifference sublime,
What would ye speak, if understood,
Of life with all its woes and ills?
'Tis this: to all they work for good
Who love the maker of the hills.
ALONE
Genesis 28:10-22.
The sun had set. He was alone;
Mid twilight shadows he would rest.
He laid his head upon a stone
To woo sweet slumber for his guest.