Classic Poem

2.
Blessed that flock safe penned in Paradise;
 Blessed this flock which tramps in weary ways;
 All form one flock, God's flock; all yield Him praise
By joy or pain, still tending toward the prize.
Joy speaks in praises there, and sings and flies
 Where no night is, exulting all its days;
 Here, pain finds solace, for, behold, it prays;
In both love lives the life that never dies.
Here life is the beginning of our death,
 And death the starting-point whence life ensues;
  Surely our life is death, our death is life:
  Nor need we lay to heart our peace or strife,
But calm in faith and patience breathe the breath
 God gave, to take again when He shall choose.