Too Ready With Complaint
I think we are too ready with complaint
In this fair world of God’s. Had we no hope
Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope
Of yon gray blank of sky, we might be faint
To muse upon eternity’s constraint
Round our aspirant souls. But since the scope
Must widen early, is it well to droop
For a few days consumed in loss and taint?
O pusillanimous heart, be comforted,—
And like a cheerful traveler, take the road,
Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread
Be bitter in the inn, and thou unshod
To meet the flints?—At least it may be said,
“Because the way is short, I thank Thee, God!”
—Elizabeth B. Browning.
The Unceasing Upward Reaching Of The Soul
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,
And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire
And motion of the soul which will not dwell
In its own narrow being, but aspire
Beyond the fitting medium of desire.
—G. N. G. Byron.
As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after Thee, O God.
—Psalms.
Alternate Reading: Psalms 25:1-10.