Classic Poem

Beast in the jungle, ready, crouched to spring;
The spawn of sorrow, and the price of pain;
Lurking in shadow, dark and evil thing,
Waiting to claim my craven heart again.

Grief slew my joy, and bore it far away,
And left me in its place this barren blight
That turns the gold of morning to the gray
And haunting terror of the murky night;

Fear that the ones I love shall anguish too,
Fear for the heart red-hot, the heart turned cold,
Fear of the grief, the blinding grief I knew,
Fear of the shortening day, the years grown old.

God of my Fathers, from thy throne above,
Lean in thy tenderness, and draw me near, —
Teach me, O gracious Lord, the perfect love, —
The perfect love that casteth out all fear!