I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
Children bring their own love with them when they come.
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.
I am athirst for God, the living God.