BUSH BALLADS AND RHYMES 



Shall we count offences or coin excuses, 

 Or weigh with scales the soul of a man, 



Whom a stronof hand binds and a sure hand 

 looses, 

 Whose light is a spark and his life a span ? 



The seed he sow'd or the soil he cumber'd, 



The time he served or the space he slumber'd ; 



Will it profit a man when his days are 

 number'd. 

 Or his deeds since the days of his life began ? 



One, glad because of the light, saith, '' Shall 

 not 

 The righteous Judge of all the earth do 

 right, 

 For behold the sparrows on the house-tops 

 fall not 

 Save as seemeth to Him good in His sight?" 

 And this man's joy shall have no abiding 

 Through lights departing and lives dividing. 

 He is soon as one in the darkness hiding, 

 One loving darkness rather than light. 



A little season of love and laughter, 



Of light and life, and pleasure and pain, 



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