I came back across this poem from Elizabeth Prentiss today. Mrs. Prentiss suffered much and deals with this topic well in her poems. I like the honest assessment of grief and the move to triumph through the gospel.
Oh, days of sickness, grief and pain,
What bring ye in your mournful train?
Gray hairs, old age before its time-
The breaking down of manhood’s prime,
The trembling hand, the fainting heart,
Bruises and wounds to throb and smart,
The nerve unstrung, the sleepless brain;
Oh, these come boldly in your train.
But days of sickness, grief and pain,
Do these alone make up your train?
Not so! Not so! The ranks between
Submission’s gracious form is seen;
Sweet Patience ventures hand in hand,
While Faith, Christ’s honor to maintain
Rides, dauntless, mid your hostile train.
Come, then, wild troop of griefs and pains
And riot on my Lord’s domains!
Where you lay waste, another Hand
A firmer fabric long has planned;
What you destroy, Faith’s radiant smile
Declares is for a little while;
And Christ Himself shall come to reign
Victorious o’er your helpless train.
- Elizabeth Prentiss, found in Golden Hours