Whatso it be, howso it be, Amen.
Blessed it is, believing, not to see.
Now God knows all that is; and we shall, then,
Whatso it be.
God’s Will is best for man whose will is free.
God’s Will is better to us, yea, than ten
Desires whereof He holds and weighs the key.
Amid her household cares He guides the wren,
He guards the shifty mouse from poverty;
He knows all wants, allots each where and when,
Whatso it be.
Short is time, and only time is bleak;
Gauge the exceeding height thou hast to climb:
Long eternity is nigh to seek:
Short is time.
Time is shortening with the wintry rime:
Pray and watch and pray, girt up and meek;
Praying, watching, praying, chime by chime.
Pray by silence if thou canst not speak:
Time is shortening; pray on till the prime:
Time is shortening; soul, fulfil thy week:
Short is time.
For Each.
My harvest is done, its promise is ended,
Weak and watery sets the sun,
Day and night in one mist are blended,
My harvest is done.
Long while running, how short when run,
Time to eternity has descended,
Timeless eternity has begun.
Was it the narrow way that I wended?
Snares and pits was it mine to shun?
The scythe has fallen, so long suspended,
My harvest is done.
For All.
Man’s harvest is past, his summer is ended,
Hope and fear are finished at last,
Day hath descended, night hath ascended,
Man’s harvest is past.
Time is fled that fleeted so fast:
All the unmended remains unmended,
The perfect, perfect: all lots are cast.
Waiting till earth and ocean be rended,
Waiting for call of the trumpet blast,
Each soul at goal of that way it wended,—
Man’s harvest is past.