"'Twere better to suffer for well doing, than for evil doing."
E still, faint heart, lamentings hush,And count thyself but blest,—
To suffer for well-doing here,
Will bring eternal rest.
Break off the thorn, for still the rose,
Though crushed, her sweetness gives;
Tear the verbena from her stalk,
Yet still her fragrance lives.
Though crushed, her sweetness gives;
Tear the verbena from her stalk,
Yet still her fragrance lives.
Take up thy staff, hold firm thy shield,
Buckle thy sandals tight,
The way is long and steep, but mark—
There cometh rest and night.
Buckle thy sandals tight,
The way is long and steep, but mark—
There cometh rest and night.
Lie down beneath the palm-tree's shade,
A branch cross on thy breast,
Then fold thy shivering hands, and pray,
In well-doing to be blest.
A branch cross on thy breast,
Then fold thy shivering hands, and pray,
In well-doing to be blest.
