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[334] Suffice it if—my good and ill unreckoned,
     And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace—
I find myself by hands familiar beckoned
     Unto my fitting place.

Some humble door among Thy many mansions,
     Some sheltering shade where sin and striving cease,
And flows forever through heaven's green expansions
     The river of Thy peace.

There, from the music round about me stealing,
     I fain would learn the new and holy song,
And find at last, beneath Thy trees of healing,
     The life for which I long.


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1882 AD (1)
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