A Sower went forth to sow; His eyes were dark with woe; He crushed the flowers beneath his feet, Nor smelt the perfume, warm and sweet, That prayed for pity everywhere. He came to a field that was harried By iron, and to heaven laid bare; He shook the seed that he carried O'er that brown and bladeless place. He shook it, as God shakes hail Over a doomed land. When lightnings interlace The sky and the earth, and his wand Of love is a thunder-flail. Thus did that Sower sow; His seed was human blood, And tears of women and men. And I, who near him stood, Said: When the crop comes, then There will be sobbing and sighing, Weeping and wailing and crying, Flame, and ashes, and woe. II It was an autumn day When next I went that way. And what, think you, did I say, What was it that I heard, What music was in the air? The song of a sweet-voiced bird? Nay--but the songs of many Thrilled through with praise and prayer. Of all those voices not any Were sad of memory; But a sea of sunlight flowed, A golden harvest glowed, And I said, Thou only art wise, God of the earth and skies! And I praise thee, again and again, For the Sower whose name is Pain. --Richard Watson Gilder. Not disabled in the combat, No, nor absent from your post; You are doing gallant service Where the Master needs you most. It was noble to give battle While the world stood cheering on; It is nobler to lie patient, Leaving half one's work undone. And the King counts up his heroes Where the desperate charge was led, But he writes, "My Best Beloved," Over many a sick man's bed. I DO NOT ASK, O LORD I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be A pleasant road; I do not ask that thou wouldst take from me Aught of its load. I do not ask that flowers should always spring Beneath my feet; I know too well the poison and the sting Of things too sweet. For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead: Lead me aright. Though strength should falter and though heart should bleed, Through peace to light. I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst shed Full radiance here; Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread Without a fear. I do not ask my cross to understand, My way to see; Better in darkness just to feel thy hand, And follow Thee. Joy is like restless day; but peace divine Like quiet night. Lead me, O Lord, till perfect day shall shine Through peace to light. --Adelaide Anne Procter. ANGELS OF GRIEF With silence only as their benediction God's angels come, Where, in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb.