I WILL NOT BE COMFORTED BECAUSE ONE IS NOT

There is a gladness over all the earth,

For summer is abroad in breezy mirth,

Nature rejoices and the heavens are glad,

And I alone am desolate and sad,

For I sit mourning by an empty cot,

Refusing comfort because one is not.

And I will mourn because I am bereaved,

Others have suffered others too have grieved

Over hopes broken even as mine are broke,

By a swift unexpected bitter stroke,

And I must weep as weeping Jacob prest,

To grieving lips his last ones princely vest

You tell me cease weeping, to resign

Unto the Father's a will this will of mine,

You say my lamb is on the Shepherd s breast,

My flower blooms in gardens of the blest,

I know it all I say, Thy will be done

Yet I must mourn for him — my son! my son!