POETRY.
PASSION WEEK.
"The lot is fallen unto me in a fair ground, yea I have a goodly heritage."
LORD, Lord, when we are dead remember• not All our lost sorrows, and our soul's endeavour Better• to bear the burden of our• lot, Firmer to stand how strong the storm so-ever ; Only remember all the Agony Thou borest in the Garden, silently.
Only remember all the wealth of joy Thou hiddest in our hearts to live and grow, The boundless faith in good, without alloy, That in our inmost Thou Thyself didst sow. Lord, if we falter where we would be strong, Do Thou remember how the way was long.
And when the soul by Death is freed again Thou wilt not let the rapture of her wings Be marred by memory of this Life's pain ; We lift our hearts above our sufferings. Lord, Id our soul's life after all these years Rise stronger, wiser, cleaner for its tears.
PAMELA GLENCONNER.
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