Poems (Cook)/"Thy Kingdom Come"

by Eliza Cook

"THY KINGDOM COME."

'Tis human lot to meet and bear
 The common ills of human life;
There's not a breast but hath its share
 Of bitter pain, and vexing strife.
The peasant in his lowly shed;
 The noble 'neath a gilded dome;
Each will at some time bow his head,
 And ask and hope, "Thy kingdom come!"

When some deep sorrow, surely slow,
 Despoils the cheek, and eats the heart,
Laying our busy projects low,
 And bidding all earth's dreams depart—
Do we not smile, and calmly turn
 From the wide world's tumultuous hum,
And feel the immortal essence yearn,
 Rich with the thought, "Thy kingdom come!"

The waves of Care may darkly bound.
 And buffet, till, our strength outworn,
We stagger as they gather round;
 All shatter'd, weak, and tempest torn:
But there's a lighthouse for the soul,
 That beacons to a stormless home;
It safely guides through roughest tides-
 It shines, it saves! "Thy kingdom come!"

To gaze upon the loved in death,
 To mark the closing, beamless eye,
To press dear lips, and find no breath—
 This, this is life's worst agony!
But God—too merciful, too wise,
 To leave the lorn one in despair—
Whispers, while snatching those we prize,
 "My kingdom come!—Ye'll meet them there!"