H. SUSO

"Out of the Depths"

2 Cor. iv. 17

"To Me the weary cometh when the way

Is steep and long and lone—

To Me the friendless, when the golden day

Behind the hills is gone."

                  .      .      .      .      .      .

Then spake my heart, "For him who comes are pain

And bitter tears and scars;

The briars of the wilderness remain

Griefs countless as the stars.

"As he who from the poor his garment takes

When drives the storm and sleet,

Is he who singeth to the heart that breaks

How then may grief be sweet?"