O God! if this indeed
be all
That Life can show to me;
If on my aching brow may
fall
No freshening dew from Thee;
If with no brighter light
than this
The lamp of hope may glow,
And I may only dream of
bliss,
And wake to weary woe;
If friendship's solace must
decay,
When other joys are gone,
And love must keep so far
away,
While I go wandering on,--
Wandering and toiling without
gain,
The slave of others' will,
With constant care, and
frequent pain,
Despised, forgotten still;
Grieving to look on vice
and sin,
Yet powerless to quell
The silent current from
within,
The outward torrent's swell
While all the good I would
impart,
The feelings I would share,
Are driven backward to my
heart,
And turned to wormwood there;
If clouds must EVER keep
from sight
The glories of the Sun,
And I must suffer Winter's
blight,
Ere Summer is begun;
If Life must be so full of
care,
Then call me soon to thee;
Or give me strength enough
to bear
My load of misery.
