Man is a thirsty beggar
Beside the well of life.
Perforce he must drink, and die.
Man is a weary beggar
Upon the roadway of days,
Perforce it leadeth unto Eternity,
And he must seek and find.
Life is a walled garden-spot;
And man, for a little space
May dwell therein, but woe is the day
When he seeks in the morning
The garden-gate and findeth it closed!
But what fear need he? For the sun
Is not within the garden-spot,
Nor the moon, nor the stars, nor the winds,
Nor the rains, nor the sleets, nor the snows,
Nor any of these things,
Which be the goods of His hands.
Lo, when the garden’s gate hath closed,
Man hath taken his place among
The larger elements of God’s creation.
(Patience Worth)
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