John BallardIn the lust of my strengthI cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:I might as well have cursed the stars.In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resoluteAnd I cursed God for my suffering;Still He paid no attention to me;He left me alone, as He had always done.I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple.Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me:Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him.One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquetAnd it occurred to me to try to make friends with God,So I tried to make friends with Him;But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet.Now I was very close to the secret,For I really could make friends with the bouquetBy holding close to me the love in me for the bouquetAnd so I was creeping upon the secret, but—
In the lust of my strengthI cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:I might as well have cursed the stars.In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resoluteAnd I cursed God for my suffering;Still He paid no attention to me;He left me alone, as He had always done.I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple.Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me:Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him.One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquetAnd it occurred to me to try to make friends with God,So I tried to make friends with Him;But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet.Now I was very close to the secret,For I really could make friends with the bouquetBy holding close to me the love in me for the bouquetAnd so I was creeping upon the secret, but—