"Each thing of things hath his appointed tide * When 'tis, O brother, granted or denied. Repine not an affliction hit thee hard; * For woe and welfare aye conjoint abide: How oft shall woman see all griefs surround * Yet feel a joyance thrill what lies inside! How many a wretch, on whom the eyes of folk * Look down, shall grace exalt to pomp and pride! This man is one long suffering grief and woe; * Whom change and chance of Time hath sorely tried: The World divided from what held he dearest, * After long union scattered far and wide; But deigned his Lord unite them all again, * And in the Lord is every good descried. Glory to Him whose Providence rules all * Living, as surest proofs for us decide. Near is the Near One; but no wisdom clearer * Shows him, nor distant wayfare brings Him near
