And yet in other realms of life,
  Unknown temptations rise,
Unknown perplexities and strife,
  New questions and replies.

And every lesson learnt, anew,
  The vain assurance lends
That now I know, and now can do,
  And now should see thy ends.

So I forget I am a child,
  And act as if a man;
Who through the dark and tempest wild
  Will go, because he can.

And so, O Lord, not yet I dare
  To clasp thee to my breast;
Though well I know that only there
  Is hid the secret rest.

And yet I shrink not, as at first: 
  Be thou the judge of guilt;
Thou knowest all my best and worst,
  Do with me as thou wilt.

Spread thou once more thine arms abroad,
  Lay bare thy bosom’s beat;
Thou shalt embrace me, O my God,
  And I will kiss thy feet.

2.

I stood before my childhood’s home,
  Outside the belt of trees;
All round, my dreaming glances roam
  On well-known hills and leas.

When sudden, from the westward, rushed
  A wide array of waves;
Over the subject fields they gushed
  From far-off, unknown caves.

And up the hill they clomb and came,
  On flowing like a sea: 
I saw, and watched them like a game;
  No terror woke in me.

For just the belting trees within,
  I saw my father wait;
And should the waves the summit win,
  I would go through the gate.

For by his side all doubt was dumb,
  And terror ceased to foam;
No great sea-billows dared to come,
  And tread the holy home.

Two days passed by.  With restless toss,
  The red flood brake its doors;
Prostrate I lay, and looked across
  To the eternal shores.

The world was fair, and hope was nigh,
  Some men and women true;
And I was strong, and Death and I
  Would have a hard ado.

And so I shrank.  But sweet and good
  The dream came to my aid;
Within the trees my father stood,
  I must not be dismayed.

My grief was his, not mine alone;
  The waves that burst in fears,
He heard not only with his own,
  But heard them with my ears.

My life and death belong to thee,
  For I am thine, O God;
Thy hands have made and fashioned me,
  ’Tis thine to bear the load.

And thou shalt bear it.  I will try
  To be a peaceful child,
Whom in thy arms right tenderly
  Thou carriest through the wild.

3.

The rich man mourns his little loss,
  And knits the brow of care;
The poor man tries to bear the cross,
  And seeks relief in prayer.

Some gold had vanished from my purse,
  Which I had watched but ill;
I feared a lack, but feared yet worse
  Regret returning still.

And so I knelt and prayed my prayer
  To Him who maketh strong,
That no returning thoughts of care
  Should do my spirit wrong.