as some of those who preach with 'possum grin
so blithely say, that all our woes are sin-
derived and sin-contrived and therefore fraught
with meaning metaphysical, whose cure
be merest faith in Jesus, who away
doth take our sin, and with it every gray
and heavy hour, and give us joy for sure.
Myself do find this of the truth but half,
for though sin's reign is drear, yet not implied
should be the Man of Sorrows must have died
in error, for he died without a laugh.
Bear witness, all ye get of prophets wild:
it was on Jesus' griefs his Father smiled.
(Written years ago for my sister when she was low, offered now for others who are much on my mind. God have mercy on them.)