Classic Poem

Thou shouldst not, Christian lady, bend to grief,
And blame this heartless world for ills of thine;
Thou knowest well that brilliant suns do shine
Behind this life's dark cloud:—they bring relief.

And pitying rays for all thy sighs, that pine
And long lament; thou prov'st it by belief
In God's omnipotence and love divine,
Knowing that earthly cares below are brief.

God loves thy past, and gives thee grace to bear
The pains and anguish of the world's sad cold,
To tew proves He thy proud heart strong and rare,
To few thy virtues does His might unfold,
But still He gives thee grand and generous share,
Thy smile like sunbeams! and thy love like gold.