(2 Cor. 4 :17)

"O father! not my will, but Thine be done!"
Thus with my lips I say;
Yet lags the heart, the while the lips would run –
My heart, it sayeth "Nay."

" Be comforted, O child of My delight,
Though yet thy heart complain ;
'Tis well if thou suffer when I smite,
Or pain would not be pain.

" Were it a chastening if it were not grief ?
'Tis for a moment tears,
Then glows the spring, where fell the yellow leaf,
Of heaven's eternal years.

"For sorrow is the sorrow of an hour,
And sent in eternal love ;
The dusky bud enfolds the glorious flower
For God's delight above."

Then spake my heart :" For him who comes are
And bitter tears and scars; [pain
The briars of the wilderness remain –
Griefs countless as the stars.

"As he who from the poor his garment takes
When drives the storm and sleet,
Is he who singeth to the heart that breaks –
How then may grief be sweet ? "

Then, lo ! in vision fair did I behold
One who a psaltery strung –
Above the strings he stretched two threads of gold,
Across, and all along;

Then with the threads thus
Gave He the harp to me . . . [strings
Thus know I how the broken-hearted sings
O Lamb of God, to Thee.

H. Suso