Led by kindlier hand than ours,
We journey through this earthly scene,
And should not, in our weary hours,
Turn to regret what might have been.
And yet these hearts, when torn by pain,
Or wrung by disappointment keen,
Will seek relief from present cares
In thoughts of joys that might have been.
But let us still these wishes vain;
We know not that of which we dream.
Our lives might have been sadder yet
God only knows what might have been.
Forgive us, Lord, our little faith;
And help us all, from morn to e'en,
Still to believe that lot were best
Which is--not that which might have been.
And grant we may so pass the days
The cradle and the grave between,
That death's dark hour not darker be
For thoughts of what life might have been.
--George Z. Gray.
Hushing every muttered murmur,
Let your fortitude the firmer
Gird your soul with strength.
While, no treason near her lurking,
Patience in her perfect working,
Shall be Queen at length.