Were I to plan my daily life
And fill each hour as I would ask
And feel no check, no hindering strife,
My only work a pleasing task...
Could I but fly from flower to flower
And drink the sweet as doth the bee,
Know only joy, no painful hour
How good would seem my life to me.
Yet would not I be satisfied
My yearning soul would not be blest
I´d be but dead, had I not cried,
For heavenly peace, for heaven´s own rest.
Oh, not for me an earthly peace
Nor yet for me this worlds renown.
No warrior sunk in worldly case
Could ever win a conqueror´s crown.
For tears, are but the heavenly dew
Which fall where joy and sorrow meet,
Tears which royal David knew
And Mary wept at Jesus feet.
Oh, link me with creations groan.
Thus shall I feel the strengthening power,
Which holds me when I feel alone,
And soothes me in my saddest hour.
So thus, I lift mine eyes above
And ask no surcease from my pain
All sorrow has been given in love
All earthly loss is heavenly gain.
By Edith Lowe
My Great-Grandma
Grannie Alice was her daughter
