BY SUSAN COOLIDGE,
AUTHOR OF “VERSES.”
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1907
_Copyright, 1889_,
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
Printers
S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
_GIVING to all, thou gavest as well to me.
A myriad thirsty shores await the tide:
They drink and drink, and will not be denied;
But not a drop less full the brimming Sea._
_One tiny shell among the kelp and weed,
One sand-grain where the beaches stretch away,—
How shall the tide regard them? Yet each day
It comes, and fills and satisfies their need._
_What can the singing sands give to the Sea?
What the dumb shell, though inly it rejoice?
Only the echo of its own strong voice;—
And this is all that here I bring to thee._
_A BENEDICTION._
_GOD give thee, love, thy heart’s desire!
What better can I pray?
For though love falter not, nor tire,
And stand on guard all day,
How little can it know or do,
How little can it say!_
_How hard it strives, and how in vain,
By hope and fear misled,
To make the pathway soft and plain
For the dear feet to tread,
To shield from sun-beat and from rain
The one beloved head!_
_Its wisdom is made foolishness;
Its best intent goes wrong;
It curses where it fain would bless,
Is weak instead of strong,—
Marring with sad, discordant sighs
The joyance of its song._
_I do not dare to bless or ban,—
I am too blind to see,—
But this one little prayer I can
Put up to God for thee,
Because I know what fair, pure things
Thy inmost wishes be;_
_That what thy heart desires the most
Is what he loves to grant,—
The love that counteth not its cost
If any crave or want;
The presence of the Holy Ghost,
The soul’s inhabitant;_
_The wider vision of the mind;
The spirit bright with sun;
The temper like a fragrant wind,
Chilling and grieving none;
The quickened heart to know God’s will
And on his errands run;_
_The ministry of little things,—
Not counted mean or small
By that dear alchemy which brings
Some grain of gold from all;
The faith to wait as well as work,
Whatever may befall._
_So, sure of thee, and unafraid,
I make my daily prayer,
Nor fear that my blind zeal be made
Thy injury or snare:
God give thee, love, thy heart’s desire,
And bless thee everywhere!_