The Days of a Man 



MEN TOLD ME, LORD 

 (1851-1921) 



Men told me, Lord, it was a vale of tears 

 Where Thou hadst placed me, wickedness and woe 

 My twain companions whereso I might go; 

 That I through ten and threescore weary years 

 Should stumble on, beset by pains and fears, 

 Fierce conflict round me, passions hot within, 

 Enjoyment brief and fatal, but in sin. 

 When all was ended then should I demand 

 Full compensation from Thine austere hand; 

 For, 'tis Thy pleasure, all temptation past, 

 To be not just but generous at last. 



Lord, here am I, my threescore years and ten 



All counted to the full; I've fought Thy fight, 



Crossed Thy dark valleys, scaled Thy rocks' harsh height, 



Borne all the burdens Thou dost lay on men 



With hand unsparing, threescore years and ten. 



Before Thee now I make my claim, O Lord! 



What shall I pray Thee as a meet reward? 



I ask for nothing! Let the balance fall! 



All that I am or know or may confess 



But swells the weight of mine indebtedness; 



Burdens and sorrows stand transfigured all; 



Thy hand's rude buffet turns to a caress, 



For Love, with all the rest, Thou gav'st me here, 



And Love is Heaven's very atmosphere! 



Lo, I have dwelt with Thee, Lord, day by day, 



I could do no more, through all Eternity! 



C 78o 3 



