Inheritance
O LITTLE child, through what long leagues of pain
Tendeth thy life, if our God will it so!
Through what deprivement of the heat and glow
That wait on action, and are counted gain!
How by thy couch the dull hours stretch their length
That slip like molten silver through the hands
Able to answer to the world's demands,
Giving it all their skilfulness and strength!
God solve this problem for us! When a soul,
A little soul, of Thine own essence pure,
Waiteth, expectant, for the earthly frame
In which it would do service, true and sure,
Why should a past obscure, beyond control,
Clothe it with suffering? Is Thy law to blame?
Tendeth thy life, if our God will it so!
Through what deprivement of the heat and glow
That wait on action, and are counted gain!
How by thy couch the dull hours stretch their length
That slip like molten silver through the hands
Able to answer to the world's demands,
Giving it all their skilfulness and strength!
God solve this problem for us! When a soul,
A little soul, of Thine own essence pure,
Waiteth, expectant, for the earthly frame
In which it would do service, true and sure,
Why should a past obscure, beyond control,
Clothe it with suffering? Is Thy law to blame?
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