"Comforted of God"

God must aquaint His comforters with grief,

Else have their words the tinkling cymbal sound;

He first who brought the wounded heart relief,

Himself lay stricken, bleeding on the ground.

The eagle, mounting high with sunlit wings,

Fears not the random dart the heedless marksman flings.

Oh! there is truth surpassing mortal ken,

That God, through suffering, teacheth to His own;

Yea, glories unperceived by faithless men,

Too vast for Faith herself to view alone,

Thrice happy who, in frequent tears and pain

Those blissful heights, step after step, with Him may gain.

Why should this human heart, instinct with love,

Expect an answer in the stranger-land?

Enough to have a full response above;

Enough that One its way can understand.

Let love on earth her wealth in streamlets spend;

Its depths are all reserved for one Celestial Friend.

From "Comforted of God"

compiled by A. J. Pollock