Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Submission and Trust
SUBMISSION AND TRUST.
Across fair fields, where softly playedFantastic waves of light and shade,A maiden came, with footsteps slow,To watch the sunset's fading glow.The dusky twilight suited wellThe weary tale her sad eyes tell.Dwarfed by disease and cruel pain,Ne'er to be helpful, strong or well again,Crouching beneath a sheltering tree,She pondered o'er life's mistery,Which, round her wrapping like a cloud,Folded her spirit in its shroud."O why," she sadly thought, "is there to beNever a day from pain or sorrow free?Why blighted hopes along the wayWhich once to me seemed fair and gay?"
Thus musing in despondent mood,Life seemed devoid of every good—A sad, a joyless boon indeed—No earthly friend of her had need.Now glancing upward wearily,As if some solace there might be, From 'mid the boughs above her head,Close nestled in its downy bed,A bird with sudden impulse springs,Fluttering long its dainty wings;And, as if it knew her thought,With its sweetest trilling soughtAll its wealth of joy to tell—And would fain her grief dispel.The very leaflets seem to dance,Waking her from her gloomy trance;And, looking now in glad surprise,As if with newly opened eves,She saw the tokens of God's careIn rich profusion everywhere.
Tenderly the twilight's glowBathed the dewy fields below;While rarest-tinted gleams of lightWere softening slowly into night.The moonbeams, creeping o'er the hill,Glimmered upon the waters still,Of a small lakelet, fair and sweet,Whose silent, shadowy retreatWas wrapt in drapery pure and white—Soft, drifting wreaths of misty light;While, like a friendly watcher, seemedThe light which from each cottage gleamed.With mingled sense of joy and fear, She felt that God was very near;And, reaching out, she sought to graspThe dear, strong hand, holding in claspThe world so tenderly. God's loveAll Nature's tuneful voices prove.Why should her heart discordant beWith all this tuneful harmony?Could she not bravely bear the rod,Trusting the higher will of God?Homeless and friendless, still she knewHis love was ever strong and true;And, kneeling in the moonlight there,She softly breathed her trustful prayer;
"O God! I'll question not Thy ways;My lips shall ever speak Thy praise;Thou givest more than I deserve;From duty I will never swerve;Forgotten be each bitter pain—I will not be so weak again!Thou knowest, Father, all my need—Be Thou my comforter, indeed!Henceforth, I'll ever look to Thee,Nor murmur at my destiny.Loving and trusting Thee alone,Teach me to say, 'Thy will be done.'"