Now in your days of worst distress, <br />The empty days that stretch before, <br />When all your sweet's turned bitterness;-- <br />The Hand of the Lord is at your door. <br /> <br /> <br />And when at morn beside your bed <br />Grief waits to tell you it is true, <br />That both your darling boys are dead; <br />The Mercy of the Lord bends down to you. <br /> <br /> <br />When you are frozen and stripped bare <br />And over your joy is raised a stone, <br />The foot of the Lord is on your stair; <br />The Lord's mercy is never done. <br /> <br /> <br />More than the joys of common men,-- <br />The gifts of the Lord are past desire-- <br />They shall be given to you again, <br />They shall sit down beside your fire. <br /> <br /> <br />The young and laurelled heads shall shine, <br />Making a glory in your days <br />As a light burns in a secret shrine: <br />The Love of the Lord is passing praise. <br /> <br /> <br />The Lord recalls not gifts once given : <br />They shall sit down beside your hearth; <br />They shall come in, in white, new-shriven, <br />Make you new Heaven and a new earth. <br /> <br /> <br />The Will of the Lord is great and good, <br />The cup of your joy shall He brim o'er; <br />They shall come in with life renewed. <br />They shall go out from you no more.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-two-bereaved-2/
