Daily Trials

By Martha Waldron Blacker

Oh, strong and brave the heart may be,
To bear the heavy woes of life;
It fails most oft at petty ills,
With which each passing day is rife.

We gird ourselves with armor strong,
To meet some mighty wrong or ill;
Proudly defy the threatened harm,
And, conquering, boast the power of will.

Anon, a trifle light as air,
A careless word,—a look,— a tone,—
Makes shipwreck of our boasted power;
Endurance, strength, alike are gone.

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