The Wish Of To-Day

I ask not now for gold to gild     With mocking shine a weary frame;     The yearning of the mind is stilled,     I ask not now for Fame.     A rose-cloud, dimly seen above,     Melting in heaven's blue depths away;     Oh, sweet, fond dream of human Love     For thee I may not pray.     But, bowed in lowliness of mind,     I make my humble wishes known;     I only ask a will resigned,     O Father, to Thine own!     To-day, beneath Thy chastening eye     I crave alone for peace and rest,     Submissive in Thy hand to lie,     And feel that it is best.     A marvel seems the Universe,     A miracle our Life and Death;     A mystery which I cannot pierce,     Around, above, beneath.     In vain I task my aching brain,     In vain the sage's thought I scan,     I only feel how weak and vain,     How poor and blind, is man.     And now my spirit sighs for home,     And longs for light whereby to see,     And, like a weary child, would come,     O Father, unto Thee!     Though oft, like letters traced on sand,     My weak resolves have passed away,     In mercy lend Thy helping hand     Unto my prayer to-day