What matter if 'tis hid from me?
God knows—not I—how sweet accord
Shall grow at length from out this clash
Of earthly discords which have jarred
On soul and sense; I hear the crash,
Yet feel and know that on his ear
Breaks harmony—full, deep, and clear.
God knows—not I—why, when I'd fain
Have walked in pastures green and fair,
The path he pointed me hath lain