Low Spirits

Fever, and fret, and aimless stir,
And disappointed strife,
All chafing unsuccessful things,
Make up the sum of life.

Love adds anxiety to toil,
And sameness doubles cares,
While one unbroken chain of work
The flagging temper wears.

The light and air are dulled with smoke;
The streets resound with noise;
And the soul sinks to see its peers
Chasing their joyless joys.

Voices are round me; smiles are near;
Kind welcomes to be had;
And yet my spirit is alone,
Fretful, outworn, and sad.

A weary actor, I would fain
Be quit of my long part;
The burden of unquiet life
Lies heavy on my heart.

Sweet thought of God! now do thy work,
As thou hast clone before;
Wake up, and tears will wake with thee,
And the dull mood be o'er.

The very thinking of the thought,
Without or praise or prayer,
Gives light to know, and life to do,
And marvellous strength to bear.

Oh there is music in that thought
Unto a heart unstrung,
Like sweet bells at the evening-time
Most musically rung.

'Tis not His justice or His power,
Beauty or blest abode,
But the mere unexpanded thought
Of the Eternal God.

It is not of His wondrous works,
Nor even that He is:
Words fail it, but it is a thought
Which by itself is bliss.

Sweet thought! lie closer to my heart,
That I may feel thee near,
As one who for his weapon feels
In some nocturnal fear.

Mostly in hours of gloom thou com st,
When sadness makes us lowly,
As though thou wert the echo sweet
Of humble melancholy.

T bless Thee, Lord! for this kind check
To spirits over free,
And for all things that make me feel
More helpless need of Thee.