I say to thee — do thou repeat

    To the first man thou mayest meet

In lane, highway, or open street —

That he, and we, and all men move

    Under a canopy of love

As broad as the blue sky above;

That doubt and trouble, fear and pain

    And anguish, all are shadows vain;

That death itself shall not remain;

That weary deserts we may tread,

    A dreary labyrinth may thread,

Dark ways under ground be led,

Yet, if we will our Guide obey,

    The dreariest path, the darkest way,

Shall issue out in heavenly day,

 And we, on divers shores now cast,

   Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,

All in our Father’s house at last.

And, ere thou leave him, say thou this

    Yet one word more: They only miss

The winning of that final bliss

Who will not count it true that love,

    Blessing, not cursing, rules above,

And that in it we live and move. 

And one thing further make him know:

    That to believe these things are so,

This firm faith never to forego,

Despite of all that seems at strife

    With blessing, all with curses rife,

That this is blessing, this is life.