Blue and Purple by Francis Neilson - HTML preview

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DESTINY

HERE, let it be! I will not ask,

Dear God, what is my destiny.

With courage I will face the task—

So, life, make what you will of me.

 

Yet I would know what is this pain,

Which smites with cruel force my mind?

And what can sorrow hope to gain

If woe is all my heart can find?

 

Why linger here? There must be rest

In some fair haven Thou hast made,

Or is the region of the blest

As vain a place as this? Then fade

 

Sweet hope! And let the clouds of night

Assemble o’er my weary head—

Why question more about the fight

Of souls that battle with the dead?

 

Still destiny may be some song

My aching heart might learn to sing,

A melody, both sweet and long,

And singing, heaven nearer bring!

 

Perhaps my doubts are shadows chill;

My mind may harbour questions vain.

My destiny! the merest rill

On ocean’s wide, unresting main.

 

Then Life and Death may count as past—

Things gone beneath the sodden clay.

For some great part, Thou, me might cast,

To light dejection’s gloomy day.

 

Yes, there is Love! Love ever bright,

Love worshipping the soul of her

Who came from thee—with morn’s first light—

Embodiment of all things fair.

 

This let me do. Take Death! Take Life!

And leave me Love’s celestial glow.

And save me from the toil and strife,

Which loveless souls are doomed to know.