Not to escape the ills of life, Not that I dread misfortune's knife, Not that I would my duty shirk, Not that I weary of Thy work, Is my desire to depart, Dear Lord, who searchest all my heart Thou knowest I would still remain In spite of all that gives me pain,— The daily burdens that I bear, Infirmities that none can share, The purposes I fail to keep, The downfalls over which I weep; Thou knowest if I long to go, When troubles seem to overflow, From storm without and strife within, And all the wretchedness of sin; It is not that I now behold The sapphire gates and streets of gold; That down the vistas of my dreams Celestial, fadeless glory gleams; That loved ones who have gone before Re-cross the flood to guide me o'er, And teach my lips, in place of sighs, The melodies of Paradise: Nor yet that I shall enter in Where they abide who never sin, Who rest from weariness and pain, From heartache and a tangled brain; It is that when this life is done, Its work complete, its battles won, Apart from evil I shall be Forever, blessed Lord, with Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LAMBERT HUTCHINS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPRING IN NEW HAMPSHIRE by CLAUDE MCKAY SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN THE GENERAL PUBLIC by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET FOR ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE by MALCOLM COWLEY THE BIRDS DO THUS by ROBERT FROST |