“O how many hearts are breaking!
O how many hearts are aching
For a loving touch and token,
For the word you might have spoken.”
“God doth suffice! O thou, the patient one,
Who puttest faith in him, and none beside,
Bear thou thy load; under the setting sun
The glad tents gleam: thou wilt be satisfied.”
We all need help. None of us are sufficient in ourselves for all the exigencies of our condition. Life is too large for any of us. Its duties are too great for strength. Its trials overtax our power of endurance. Its antagonisms over master us. Our own hearts contain only a little cupful of oil; and, unless we can replenish them from some reserve supply, our lamps will go out, leaving us in darkness.
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