A gift these hours have in charge for me.
My weal or wo they hold—my light—my shade.
Dark sorrow they may bring me—bitter tears—
Or sunny joys—bright Laughter’s merry crew
May playful lurk behind those gloomy folds
But if to me the right were given to lift
Those veils, before the ordered time, and know
The gifts they bring—I’d pause. I do not seek
To know my future. This I humbly ask,
In joy or wo, that God may give to me