Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/511

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Then tell me not that anything shall stand
Before God's will, His child's divine desire,
God, who could lift the ocean in His hand
To quench the violence of consuming fire.
By human reasoning wrong shall win the fight,
In utter darkness go out star and sun—
The Christian waits the triumph of the right—
Behold he prayeth and it shall be done.


MY CHOICE

Go revel in banquet, and dress, and wine,
In worldly pleasures without restraint,
Be triumphs of beauty and splendor thine,
Be this thy choice, but it is not mine
As I kneel at the grave of my little saint.
I would rather pass like my little May
With a victor's tread through the gates of day,
With a song of faith and an angel's smile,
Than be queen of the world for a little while.

I see not the coffin that holds her dust,
The grave where she slumbers is left below,
As borne on the wings of her Christian trust
To the land where she liveth my glad thoughts go;
I shall see her again, for she is not dead,
"I will wait in Heaven 'till you come," she said.

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