Itself had gathered; rather would I speak

Of light from darkness, good from evil brought

By an almighty power, and how all things,

If we will not refuse the good they bring,

Are messages of an almighty love,{3}

{3}

And full of blessings. Oh! be sure of this—

All things are mercies while we count them so;

And this believing, not keen poverty

Nor wasting years of pain or slow disease,

Nor death, which in a moment might lay low

Our pleasant plants,—not these, if they should come,

Shall ever drift our bark of faith ashore,

Whose stedfast anchor is securely cast

Within the veil, the veil of things unseen,

Which now we know not, but shall know hereafter.

Yet wherefore this? for we have not been called

To interpret the dark ways of Providence,

But that unsleeping eye that wakes for us,

Has kept from hurt, and harm, and blind mischance,

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