Hide, then, from careless hearts thy sad but precious store, And if life"s struggle should thy thoughts beguile, Quicken the pulse, and tempt the cheerful smile, Should worldly shadows cross that form unseen, And duty claim a place where grief hath been, Spurn not the balm by toil o"er suffering shed, Nor fear to be disloyal to the dead.
"Twas nature bade thee grieve, and for thy grief The Lord of nature now ordains relief.
Like iron molten by the founder"s art, To fierce affliction yields the stubborn heart.
The fiery blast its ancient form destroys, And bids it flow released from base alloys; But the kind G.o.d, who doth the flames control, Wills to re-cast, not to consume, the soul: Hence tempering breezes, hence the lessened pain, That the vexed heart may rest and form again.
Then be it so--but, ere that heart grows cold, See that its later be its n.o.bler mould.
See that, by pain made new, and purged from dross, It bear, in sharp relief, the image of the Cross.