Poem February 6, 1902 Issue

Retrospection

Anna Shipton with contributions from G. S. Merriam, Marcus Aurelius

He was better to me than all my hopes,
He was better than all my fears;
He made a road of my broken works,
And a rainbow of my tears.

Not a billow broke o'er my sea-girt path,
But carried my Lord on its crest;
When I think of the days of my wilderness march,
I can trust in my Lord for the rest.

He emptied my hands of my treasured store,
And his covenant love revealed;
There was not a wound in my aching heart,
But the balm of his breath has healed.

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