Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings; I know that God is good!

The good is always beautiful, the beautiful is good!

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!

Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.