Then why should I murmur at trials severe.
Be tranquil, my spirit, the worst that can come
But shortens thy journey and hastens thee home.
Let trouble and danger my progress oppose;
They’ll only make heaven more bright at the close;
Come joy, then, or sorrow—whate’er may befall—
One moment in glory will make up for all.
A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand,
I march on in haste thro’ an enemy’s land;
The road may be rough, but it cannot be long;