Storm-tossed and beaten, before, behind,
Till the courage fails and the sight is blind,
Must it go in search of its heaven?
I do not think that it can be so;
For weary is life, as all men know,
And battling and struggling to and fro
Man goes from his morn to his even.
And surely this is enough to bear,—
The long day’s work in the sun’s hot glare,
The doubt and the loss which breed despair,