Suffer and Be Strong: A Poem

SUFFER AND BE STRONG. BY CHRISTINE D. YOUNG. [The author of this touching and beautiful poem was Director of the Domestic Art Department of the Brigham Young University for several years but has been compelled, this year, to give up the work on account of ill health. She is a sister of the wife of the late Dr. Karl G. Maeser. The poem was first printed in the student paper, The White and Blue, April, .1904. "The circum- stances," says Dr. George H. Brimhall, in reply to a recent note of inquiry from the editors of the Era, "connected with the writing of the poem are as fol. lows: One of our students, Brother Corey Hanks, was at work in a mine, and by a premature explosion lost the sight of both his eyes. He visited the school in this unfortunate condition and spoke one morning in devotional exercises. His remarks were so full of hope and fortitude and courage that he seemed a giant of strength even in this deplorable condition. The visit and remarks of the young man deeply affected us all, and Sister Young gave vent to her feelings in the poem, 'Suffer and be Strong.' Sister Young has been an invalid for years." Editors.] The hall was filled with its careless, chattering throng, Pealed forth the organ's prelude to the song, Full rose the hymn, and then — the prayer: And then — we saw thee stand Before us. A kind hand Had led thee, maimed and blind and broken, there. And then thou spakest, — thy sightless face upturned In the old hall, where but so late had burned Thy heart like ours, with promise. Still as death the place Great God! to us that day, What couldst thou say, But cry thy anguish

— : — — 96 IMPROVEMENT ERA. And yet, with tranquil breath, Thou spak'st of gratitude for things we'd done: Of love to thee of God, of truth that shone A living light. As for thy doom Why, if it were his will Thou'dst bear it and be still. And stifled sobbing broke the stillness of the room.

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When fierce rebellion surges through my heart, And bitter my complainings at the smart Of wounds that I must bear: When all my restless life Seems but a fruitless strife, And God seems heedless of my pleading prayer, Let me recall that sightless face again So pale and patient 'neath its crown of pain, And hear again thy lips in perfect trust, Unfaltering proclaim thy heavenly Maker's name; Aye, see thee kiss the cross that bore thee to the dust. That humbled and ashamed I take again My burden, and submissive struggle on, Uplifted by thy strength divine. My lot is noonday, bright, sublime, Compared with thy deep night; I stand rebuked before such faith as thine. And thou, boy, may the pitying Christ, who died Upon the cross, walk ever at thy side, Make thee his own, and guide thy faltering feet! And all the tempest's strife That rends our troubled life Stand awed to silence by thy price complete. Provo, Utah.