Until She Died
By Edgar A. Guest
Until she died we never knew
The beauty of our faith in God.
We’d seen the summer roses nod
And wither as the tempests blew,
Through many a spring we’d lived to see
The buds returning to the tree.
We had not felt the touch of woe;
What cares had come, had lightly flown;
Our burdens we had borne alone—
The need of God we did not know.
It seemed sufficient through the days
To think and act in worldly ways.
And then she closed her eyes in sleep;
She left us for a little while;
No more our lives would know her smile.
And oh, the hurt of it went deep!
It seemed to us that we must fall
Before the anguish of it all.
Our faith, which had not known the test,
Then blossomed with its comfort sweet,
Promised that some day we should meet
And whispered to us: “He knows best.”
And when our bitter tears were dried,
We found our faith was glorified.