NON NOBIS
Reading edition
Not unto us, O Lord, to tell Thy purpose in the blast, When these, that towered beyond us, fell And we were overpast. We cannot guess how goodness springs From the black tempest’s breath, Nor scan the birth of gentle things In these red bursts of death. We only know—from good and great Nothing save good can flow; That where the cedar crashed so straight No crooked tree shall grow; That from their ruin a taller pride— Not for these eyes to see— May clothe one day the valleyside.... Non nobis, Domine. C. E. W. B.