'Within the shadow of this love, Loss doth transmute itself to gain; Faith veils earth's sorrows in its light, And straightway lives above her pain.
'We are not losers thus; we share The perfect gladness of the Son, Not conquered--for, behold, we reign; Conquered and Conqueror are one.
'Thy wonderful grand will, my God! Triumphantly I make it mine; And faith shall breathe her glad "Amen" To every dear command of Thine.
'Beneath the splendour of Thy choice, Thy perfect choice for me, I rest; Outside it now I dare not live, Within it I must needs be blest.
'Meanwhile my spirit anchors calm In grander regions still than this; The fair, far-shining latitudes Of that yet unexplored bliss.
'Then may Thy perfect, glorious will Be evermore fulfilled in me, And make my life an answ'ring chord Of glad, responsive harmony.
'Oh! it is life indeed to live Within this kingdom strangely sweet, And yet we fear to enter in, And linger with unwilling feet.
'We fear this wondrous rule of Thine, Because we have not reached Thy heart; Not venturing our all on Thee, We may not know how good Thou art.'
Jean Sophia Pigott.