Classic Poem

That I am one day nearer to the rest
Of my small, narrow bed beneath the sod,
Where I shall sleep, haply forgetting much,
I thank Thee, God.

That though the thorns are keen and thickly set
Along the path remaining to be trod,
My feet are travel-hardened to their wounds,
I thank Thee, God.

That in the future there can be for me
No bitterer scourgings of Thy heavy rod
Than I have borne with patience in the past,
I thank Thee, God.

That this sad road at least must have an end
Toward which we weary travelers ceaseless plod,—
Oh, most of all, that this sad road must end,—
I thank Thee, God!