Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own
The wiser love severely kind;
Since, richer for its chastening grown,
I see, whereas I once was blind.
The world, O Father, hath not wronged
With loss the life by thee prolonged;
But still, with every added year,
More beautiful thy works appear.
As thou hast made thy world without,
Make thou more fair my world within;
Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;
Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;
Fill, brief or long, my granted span
Of life with love to thee and man;
Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest.
But let my last days be my best.
--John Greenleaf Whittier.
Then let us smile when skies are gray,
And laugh at stormy weather!
And sing life's lonesome times away;
So--worry and the dreariest day
Will find an end together!
Paul and Silas in their prison
Sang of Christ the Lord arisen;
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon gates at night.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.