LITMIR.BIZ

        So sweet, so sad, so swift, so slow,

        So full of eager growth and light,

        So full of pain which blindly grows,

        So full of thoughts which either way

        Have passed and crossed and touched each day,

        To us a thorn, to her a rose;

        The year so black, the year so white,

        Like rivers twain their course have run;

        The earthly stream we trace and know,

        But who shall paint the heavenly one?

        A year! We gather up our powers,

        Our lamps we consecrate and trim;

        Open all windows to the day,

        And welcome every heavenly air.

        We will press forward and will bear,

        Having this word to cheer the way:

        She, storm-tossed once, is safe with Him,

        Healed, comforted, content, forgiven;

        And while we count these heavy hours

        Has been a year,—a year in Heaven.