XXIV
Too Much
I should have been too glad, I see,Too lifted for the scant degreeOf life’s penurious round;My little circuit would have shamedThis new circumference, have blamedThe homelier time behind.
I should have been too saved, I see,Too rescued; fear too dim to meThat I could spell the prayerI knew so perfect yesterday,—That scalding one, “Sabachthani,”Recited fluent here.
Earth would have been too much, I see,And heaven not enough for me;I should have had the joyWithout the fear to justify,—The palm without the Calvary;So, Saviour, crucify.
Defeat whets victory, they say;The reefs in old GethsemaneEndear the shore beyond.‘T is beggars banquets best define;‘T is thirsting vitalizes wine,—Faith faints to understand.