OCR Text |
Show The Secret of the' Saints. To play through life a perfect part, Unnoticed and unknown. To seek no rest in any heart But only God's alone; In little things to have no will, To own no share in great. To find the labor ready still. And for the crown to wait. Upon the brow to bear no trace Of more than common care, To write no secret on the face For men to read it there; The daily cross to clasp and bless Wtih such familiar zeal As hides from all that not the less Its daily weicht vou feel. In toils that praise will never pay To see your life go past, To meet, in every coming day, Twin sister of the last; To hear of high, heroic things And yield them reverence due, Yet feel life's daily offerings Are far more fit for you. To woo no subtle, soft disguise To which self-love is prone, Unnoticed in all other eyes, Unworthy In your own. To yield with such a happy art That no one thinks you care, And say to your poor, bleeding heart, "How little you can bear!" Oh, 'tis a pathway hard to choose, A burden hard to bear. For human pride would fain refuse The nameless trials there; But since we know the gate is low That leads to heavenly bliss, What higher grace could God bestow Than such a life as this! |