Page:Poems Kimball.djvu/148

Oh, if our fear of man
 Were lost in love of Thee;
If Thy dear likeness we possessed
   In least degree;

The coldness we might meet,
 The poor vague sense of loss,
The small contempt that often seems
   The sorest cross,

The world's derision cast
 On acts of lowliness,—
How would we brave them for Thy sake,
   To make redress!

The hour is near when earth
 No longer will appall;
But only words and deeds that hour
   Beyond recall.

I would not leave undone
 The work Thou gavest me,
Nor my transgressions unconfessed,
   Dear Lord, to Thee.

But oh, that other test
 Of those who name Thy Name;
The bearing of that outward cross
   That Thou dost claim!