The day is long, and the day is hard;
We are tired of the march and of keeping guard,
Tired of the sense of a fight to be won,
Of days to live through and of work to be done,
Tired of ourselves and of being alone.
And all the while, did we only see,
We walk in the Lord's own company;
We fight, but 'tis He who strengthens our arm,
He turns the arrows which else might harm,
And out of the storm He brings a calm.
The work which we count so hard to do,
He makes it easy, for He works too;
The days that are long to live are His,
A bit of His bright eternities,
And close to our need His helping is.
O eyes that were holden and blinded quite,
And caught no glimpse of the guiding Light!
O deaf, deaf ears which did not hear
The heavenly garment trailing near!
O faithless heart, which dared to fear!
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