The pain we have to suffer seems so broad,
set side by side with this life’s narrow span.
We need no greater evidence that God
hath some Devine destiny for man.
A God would not allow this life to send
such crushing sorrows as pursue us here,
unless beyond this fleeting journey’s end
our chastened spirits found another sphere.
So small this world, so vast its agonies,
a fuller life is needed to adjust
these ill-proportioned, wide discrepancies
between the spirit and its frame of dust.
So when my soul writhes in some aching brief
and all my heart strings tremble at the strain,
my reason lends new courage to belief
and hidden purposes at last seem plain.
Belief by Ella Wheeler Wilcox