UNTIL SHE DIED

Until she died we never knew

The beauty of our faith in God.

We'd seen the summer roses nod

And wither as the tempests blew,

Through many a spring we'd lived to see

The buds returning to the tree.

We had not felt the touch of woe;

What cares had come, had lightly flown;

Our burdens we had borne alone—

The need of God we did not know.

It seemed sufficient through the days

To think and act in worldly ways.

And then she closed her eyes in sleep;

She left us for a little while;

No more our lives would know her smile.

And oh, the hurt of it went deep!

It seemed to us that we must fall

Before the anguish of it all.

Our faith, which had not known the test,

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