Too Much

I should have been too glad, I see,

      Too lifted for the scant degree

      Of life's penurious round;

My little circuit would have shamed

This new circumference, have blamed

      The homelier time behind.

I should have been too saved, I see,

Too rescued; fear too dim to me

      That I could spell the prayer

I knew so perfect yesterday,—

That scalding one, "Sabachthani,"

      Recited fluent here.

Earth would have been too much, I see,

And heaven not enough for me;

      I should have had the joy

Without the fear to justify,—

The palm without the Calvary;

      So, Saviour, crucify.

Defeat whets victory, they say;

The reefs in old Gethsemane

      Endear the shore beyond.

’T is beggars banquets best define;

’T is thirsting vitalizes wine,—

      Faith faints to understand.