[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]

THE EMPTY CUP

FLY away, bark,
Over the sea !
Take thou my grief,
Take it with thee !

Bear it afar
Unto the shore
Where the old griefs are
For evermore !
O, it was hard! Take it away —
Pressed on my heart
By night and by day. I will not have it ;
Let it go, let it go Shall I have nothing
But wailing and woe ?

Let it be, let it be !
O, bring it again!
Bring my sorrow to me,
Bring weeping and pain !
Bring my sorrow to me —
After all, it is mine
O God of my heart,
I will not repine.
For I feel such a lack,
And I am such a stone —
Bring it back, bring it back !
It is better to groan
With my old, old load
Than to search within,
And find nothing there
But folly and sin.
O, I cannot bear
This empty cup
If it must be with gall,
Fill it up! fill it up!
Fill my soul, fill my soul !
And I will bless
The hand that filleth
Mine emptiness.