Contentment | AdventAI

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 20, 1861

Contentment.

BLEST is the man of small desires, With whatsoe'er he hath content; Who to no greater thing aspires Than Heaven hath lent.

Thrice happy he whose life is not By fierce ambition's fire consumed; 'Neath Heaven's smile to cheer his lot, Sweet flowers have bloomed.

I saw a man who, on Time's score Had not yet reckoned thirty years: And yet full thrice had lived them o'er, In borrowed fears.

His frame was bony, gaunt and bent; His limbs were weak—his eyes were dim; Earth's glorious seasons came and went, But not for him.

Yet Heaven had blest him—well at first, With mind and place and ample store; But still his heart in secret nursed A wish for more.

He could not rest on middle step, While others held a higher seat; So envy to his heart's core crept, To gnaw and eat.

Though fortune smiled along his way, And home was eloquent with bliss; He never knelt aside to say, "Thank God for this!"

I saw a man of eighty years, Upon whose brow was lightly graved The record of the cares and fears Which he had braved.

His step was buoyant, and his eye Was hopeful as the eye of youth; His cheerful smile seemed to defy Care's ruthless tooth.

"Father," I cried, "though full of years, Thy brow is smooth, thy smile is glad; A pilgrim through a vale of tears, Yet never sad;

"Pray, tell me how thou hast passed through So scatheless—earth's continual strife? At what sweet spring didst thou renew Thy waning life?"

"The tale is short," said he, "think not Life's sweets were mine, unmixed with gall; But I, contented with my lot, THANKED GOD FOR ALL!"