Like one who beats against the wind Which brings him halting to his knees, And prays that he may somewhere find A shelter from the armèd breeze. Are we when on life's skyline lone, Across our path great storms are blown. Like him who leagues of sand doth tread, Where scarce a blade of grass can grow; Blistered beneath that globe of red, He sighs for vales where waters go, Are sateless souls who oft have tried The muddy streams the world supplied. Or like the weary ones who pine For some relief for hungry eyes— A tree or rock—where to recline: Tired of the waste with changeless skies, Are they who look life's windows through, In vain each day, for something new. Though tried full sore, let no one deem Despair is truth: a MAN shall be A safe retreat, a desert-stream, A break in life's monotony; And Jesus, Thou art all in all, No matter what to me befall. Oh! help me Lord to be like Thee: To stand where blows the ruthless drift; To slake the world's strange thirst; to be A shadow from the heat, or rift That shows awhile the fadeless blue— For Thy dear sake this I would do! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TASK: BOOK 4. THE WINTER EVENING by WILLIAM COWPER THE CHARIOT by EMILY DICKINSON WHERE SHALL THE BABY'S DIMPLE BE? by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S FASTING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL |