Whenever I am prone to doubt or wonder— I check myself, and say, “That mighty One Who made the solar system cannot blunder— And for the best all things are being done.” Who set the stars on their eternal courses Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure plan. Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces, Nor dare to doubt their wisdom, puny man.
You cannot put one little star in motion, You cannot shape one single forest leaf, Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean, Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief. You cannot bring one dawn of regal splendour, Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall, Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender— And dare you doubt the One who has done all?
“So much is wrong, there is such pain—such sinning.” Yet look again—behold how much is right! And He who formed the world from its beginning Knows how to guide it upward to the light. Your task, O man, is not to carp and cavil At God’s achievements, but with purpose strong To cling to good, and turn away from evil. That is the way to help the world along.
Time’s finger on the dial of my life Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark, Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end. To those who burn the candle to the stick, The sputtering socket yields but little light. Long life is sadder than an early death. We cannot count on ravelled threads of age Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use The warp and woof the ready present yields And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink How brief the past, the future, still more brief Calls on to action, action! Not for me Is time for retrospection or for dreams, Not time for self-laudation or remorse. Have I done nobly? Then I must not let Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame. Have I done wrong? Well, let the bitter taste Of fruit that turned to ashes on my lip Be my reminder in temptation’s hour, And keep me silent when I would condemn. Sometimes it takes the acid of a sin To cleanse the clouded windows of our souls So pity may shine through them.
Looking back, My faults and errors seem like stepping-stones That led the way to knowledge of the truth And made me value virtue; sorrows shine In rainbow colours o’er the gulf of years, Where lie forgotten pleasures.