Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume IV. The Higher Life. 1904. | | | | VII. Death: Immortality: Heaven | | When | | Sarah Chauncey Woolsey (Susan Coolidge) (1835–1905) |
| | | IF I were told that I must die to-morrow, | |
| That the next sun | |
| Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow | |
| For any one, | |
| All the fight fought, all the short journey through, | 5 |
| What should I do? | |
| |
| I do not think that I should shrink or falter, | |
| But just go on, | |
| Doing my work, nor change nor seek to alter | |
| Aught that is gone; | 10 |
| But rise and move and love and smile and pray | |
| For one more day. | |
| |
| And, lying down at night for a last sleeping, | |
| Say in that ear | |
| Which hearkens ever: “Lord, within thy keeping | 15 |
| How should I fear? | |
| And when to-morrow brings thee nearer still, | |
| Do thou thy will.” | |
| |
| I might not sleep for awe; but peaceful, tender, | |
| My soul would lie | 20 |
| All the night long; and when the morning splendor | |
| Flushed o’er the sky, | |
| I think that I could smile—could calmly say, | |
| “It is his day.” | |
| |
| But if a wondrous hand from the blue yonder | 25 |
| Held out a scroll, | |
| On which my life was writ, and I with wonder | |
| Beheld unroll | |
| To a long century’s end its mystic clew, | |
| What should I do? | 30 |
| |
| What could I do, O blessèd Guide and Master, | |
| Other than this; | |
| Still to go on as now, not slower, faster, | |
| Nor fear to miss | |
| The road, although so very long it be, | 35 |
| While led by thee? | |
| |
| Step after step, feeling thee close beside me, | |
| Although unseen, | |
| Through thorns, through flowers, whether the tempest hide thee, | |
| Or heavens serene, | 40 |
| Assured thy faithfulness cannot betray, | |
| Thy love decay. | |
| |
| I may not know; my God, no hand revealeth | |
| Thy counsels wise; | |
| Along the path a deepening shadow stealeth, | 45 |
| No voice replies | |
| To all my questioning thought, the time to tell; | |
| And it is well. | |
| |
| Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing | |
| Thy will always, | 50 |
| Through a long century’s ripening fruition | |
| Or a short day’s; | |
| Thou canst not come too soon; and I can wait | |
| If thou come late. | | | | |
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