Oh LET ME SUFFER, till I know
The good that cometh from the pain,
Like seeds beneath the wintry snow.
That wake in flowers and golden grain.
Oh LET ME SUFFER, till I find
What plants of sorrow can impart,
Some gift, some triumph of the mind,
Some flower, some fruitage of the heart.
The hour of anguish passes by;
But in the spirit there remains
The outgrowth of its agony.
The compensation of its pains;
In meekness, which suspects no wrong,
In patience, which endures control.
In faith, which makes the spirit strong,
In peace and purity of soul.
The good that cometh from the pain,
Like seeds beneath the wintry snow.
That wake in flowers and golden grain.
Oh LET ME SUFFER, till I find
What plants of sorrow can impart,
Some gift, some triumph of the mind,
Some flower, some fruitage of the heart.
The hour of anguish passes by;
But in the spirit there remains
The outgrowth of its agony.
The compensation of its pains;
In meekness, which suspects no wrong,
In patience, which endures control.
In faith, which makes the spirit strong,
In peace and purity of soul.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXIX.
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