'Tis first the true and then the beautiful,--
Not first the beautiful and then the true;
First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool,
Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue.
'Tis first the good and then the beautiful,--
Not first the beautiful and then the good;
First the rough seed, sown in the rougher soil,
Then the flower-blossom, or the branching wood.
Not first the glad and then the sorrowful,--
But first the sorrowful, and then the glad;
Tears for a day,--for earth of tears is full,
Then we forget that we were ever sad.
Not first the bright, and after that the dark,--
But first the dark, and after that the bright;
First the thick cloud, and then the rainbow's arc,
First the dark grave, then resurrection-light.
'Tis first the night,--stern night of storm and war,--
Long nights of heavy clouds and veiled skies;
Then the far sparkle of the Morning-star,
That bids the saints awake and dawn arise.
--_Horatius Bonar._