Classic Poem

What do the long years bring us,
The weary, restless years?
Hopes, dreams unrealized, yet balm
To stay the bitt'rest tears.
Some gold tint in the prism,
Some kind words softly said,
Some hint of love most tender
E'en when glad joy has fled.

Not grief perchance, nor sorrow,
And yet a vague unrest
Will mingle with our musings,
A pang all unexpressed.
The minstrel's song though gladsome,
Enfolds a minor strain;
Each throbbing joy brings with it
Inevitable pain.

For through the cleansing fires
Our shrinking souls must go,
Ere we the wholesome lesson
Of life can really know.
Then let us be undaunted,
Leaving to God the end,
Rememb'ring, more than sparrows,
We find in Christ, a friend.