Who would wish back the Saints upon our rough

Who would wish back the Saints upon our rough
Wearisome road?
Wish back a breathless soul
Just at the goal?
My soul, praise God
For all dear souls which have enough.

I would not fetch one back to hope with me
A hope deferred,
To taste a cup that slips
From thirsting lips:—
Hath he not heard
And seen what was to hear and see?

How could I stand to answer the rebuke
If one should say:
“O friend of little faith,
Good was my death,
And good my day
Of rest, and good the sleep I took”?

“That which hath been is named already,
and it is known that it is Man.”

“Eye hath not seen”:—yet man hath known and weighed
A hundred thousand marvels that have been:
What is it which (the Word of Truth hath said)
Eye hath not seen?

“Ear hath not heard:”—yet harpings of delight,
Trumpets of triumph, song and spoken word,
Man knows them all: what lovelier, loftier might
Hath ear not heard?

“Nor heart conceived:”—yet man hath now desired
Beyond all reach, beyond his hope believed,
Loved beyond death: what fire shall yet be fired
No heart conceived?

“Deep calls to deep:”—man’s depth would be despair
But for God’s deeper depth: we sow to reap,
Have patience, wait, betake ourselves to prayer:
Deep answereth deep.