A Song of Rest.

The world may rage without,             Quiet is here;     Statesmen may toil and shout,             Cynics may sneer;     The great world - let it go -     June warmth be March's snow,     I care not - be it so             Since I am here.     Time was when war's alarm             Called for a fear,     When sorrow's seeming harm             Hastened a tear;     Naught care I now what foe     Threatens, for scarce I know     How the year's seasons go             Since I am here.     This is my resting-place             Holy and dear,     Where Pain's dejected face             May not appear.     This is the world to me,     Earth's woes I will not see     But rest contentedly             Since I am here.     Is't your voice chiding, Love,             My mild career?     My meek abiding, Love,             Daily so near?     "Danger and loss" to me?     Ah, Sweet, I fear to see     No loss but loss of Thee             And I am here.