I have lived, And seen God's hand thro a life time, And all was for the best.
They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.
In God's good time, Which does not always fall on Saturday When the world looks for wages.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
He guides me and the bird. In His good time!
Time'swheelsrunsbackor stops: Potterand clayendure.
Who knows but the world may end tonight
The only fault's with time; All men become good creatures: but so slow!
I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive,- what time, what circuit first, I ask not; but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time.
What Youth deemed crystal, Age finds out was dew.
Others mistrust and say: "But time escapes - live now or never!" He said: "What's time? Leave Now for dogs and apes - Man has For ever