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A SHEAF GLEANED
THE HISTORY OF A SOUL.
In secret from among the throng
God sometimes takes a soul,
And leads her slow, through grief and wrong,
Unswerving to her goal.
He chooses her to be His bride,
And gives her from His store,
Meek tenderness and lofty pride,
That she may feel the more.
He makes her poor, without a stay,
Desiring all men's good,
Searching the True, pure, pure alway,
But still, misunderstood.
Beneath a weight of pains and fears
He makes her often fall,
He nourishes her with bitter tears,
Unseen, unknown of all.
He spreads the clouds her head above,
He tries her hour by hour,
From Hate she suffers and from Love,
And owns of each the power.
