There were two old men sitting on a bench. They looked as if they were waiting for a bus, but when the bus went past, they were still there.
The one on the left was holding a bunch of flowers. The
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Thou said it well thyself, O Lord my God,
That all the earth shall fall before Thy Love,
All hill, all vale, all crowded earth forgot,
Yet still remains Thy goodness, mercy, trust.
I trust Thee through the winter’s deepest cold,
Through silent hours and depths of sorrow, deep;
Through valley, shadow, youth and aged old,
I trust Thy goodness’ freshness still to keep.
Though I forget, and fall to tempter’s pow’r,
Though I remove myself from Thy good face,
Thy kindness shan’t depart, not for an hour;
Thy mercy like the spring, renews with grace.
I turn again to Thee, repent my course;
Thou art forever still my great reward.
That all the earth shall fall before Thy Love,
All hill, all vale, all crowded earth forgot,
Yet still remains Thy goodness, mercy, trust.
I trust Thee through the winter’s deepest cold,
Through silent hours and depths of sorrow, deep;
Through valley, shadow, youth and aged old,
I trust Thy goodness’ freshness still to keep.
Though I forget, and fall to tempter’s pow’r,
Though I remove myself from Thy good face,
Thy kindness shan’t depart, not for an hour;
Thy mercy like the spring, renews with grace.
I turn again to Thee, repent my course;
Thou art forever still my great reward.