Hast thou had hours when life seemed empty all,
And waste the garden thou wert set to till,
Like tide-swept sands that only white and still
Unanswering lay beneath the heaven's gray pall?
No ripening fruit to offer at His call,
Discouragement hath waited on the will;
And did some human voice, that bro't a thrill
Out of the silence, on thy hearing fall:
"I could not rest till I had come to see
And tell you how your life hath blessed mine own"?
Burst a cool spring; the heart, refreshed and free,
Went on its way under a smiling sun.
If ever this had happened unto thee,
Thou knowest a joy that's next to God's "Well done!"
Mary Electa Adams (1823 - 1898) Canada
Source: Representative Poetry Online
And waste the garden thou wert set to till,
Like tide-swept sands that only white and still
Unanswering lay beneath the heaven's gray pall?
No ripening fruit to offer at His call,
Discouragement hath waited on the will;
And did some human voice, that bro't a thrill
Out of the silence, on thy hearing fall:
"I could not rest till I had come to see
And tell you how your life hath blessed mine own"?
Burst a cool spring; the heart, refreshed and free,
Went on its way under a smiling sun.
If ever this had happened unto thee,
Thou knowest a joy that's next to God's "Well done!"
Mary Electa Adams (1823 - 1898) Canada
Source: Representative Poetry Online
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