Helen Hunt Jackson (1830–1885)

I CANNOT think but God must know

About the thing I long for so;

I know He is so good, so kind,

I cannot think but He will find

Some way to help, some way to show

Me to the thing I long for so.

I stretch my hand—it lies so near:

It looks so sweet, it looks so dear.

“Dear Lord,” I pray, “Oh let me know

If it is wrong to want it so?”

He only smiles,—He does not speak:

My heart grows weaker and more weak,

With looking at the thing so dear,

Which lies so far, and yet so near.

Now, Lord, I leave at Thy loved feet

This thing which looks so near, so sweet;

I will not seek, I will not long,—

I almost fear I have been wrong.

I ’ll go, and work the harder, Lord,

And wait till by some loud, clear word

Thou callest me to Thy loved feet,

To take this thing so dear, so sweet.