To long with all our longing powers,
And have the wish denied;
To urge and strain our force in vain
Against the unresting tide
Of fate and circumstance, which still
Baffles and beats and thwarts our will;
To reach the goal toward which we strove
All the long way and hard;
To win the prize which, to our eyes,
Seemed life's one best reward--
Love's rose, Fame's laurel, olived Peace,
The gold-fruit of Hesperides--
And then to find the prize all vain,
The joys all empty made--
To taste the sting in each sweet thing,
To watch Love's roses fade,
The fruit to ashes turn, the gold
To worthless dross within our hold!
Now which has most of grief and pain,
Which is the worse to bear:
The joy we crave and never have,
Or the curse of the granted prayer?
The baffled wish or the bitter rue--
Could our hearts choose between the two?
O will of God, thou blessed will!
Which, like a balmed air,
The breath of souls about us rolls,
Touching us everywhere,
Imparting, like a soft caress,
Healing, and help, and tenderness,
O will of God, be thou our will!
Then, come or joy or pain,
Made one with thee it cannot be
That we shall wish in vain,
And, whether granted or denied,
Our hearts shall be all satisfied.
--Susan Coolidge.