Dissatisfied

O earth where are the pleasures thou dost give

Where are thy sunny ways, thy blooming flowers

I shall not find in them however long I live

A recompense for all the weary hours

 

The cup that thou has given me to quaff

Is filled with bitterness unto the brim

I have been mocked with hopes but born to die

My faith in all things, save in God, grows dim

 

The path wherein I’ve walked through life, has been

Filled full of thorns to piece my tired feet

And all my past rises before me now

A wasted life, a mission incomplete

 

Some hearts I may have lightened on the road

Some tears perchance, my hand have wiped away

Yet when I stand before a righteous God

To answer to his charge, what shall I say.