Did you feel, dear pilgrim, you'd struggled long
'Gainst some hidden error, some entrenched wrong,
But to find at last, with the victory won,
The good fight finished, the straight race run,
That another received earth's fickle praise,
But for you new problems and care-filled days?
Yet regret not the better part you chose,
For the Searcher of hearts, He knows, He knows.
Into His storehouse bring your tithes
Of purer desires, uplifted lives,
Of truer friendships, of thoughts redeemed,
Sheaves from His waiting harvest gleaned;
Gather them, garner them, wait not to see
If praise or misjudgment your portion be.
So, ever the joy of His service grows,
For the God of all comfort, He knows, He knows.
