Come Dream With Me
I care not that the storm sways all the trees,
And floods the plain and blinds my trusting sight;
I only care that o'er the land and seas
Comes somewhere Love's perpetual peace and light.
I care not that sharp thorns grow thick below, And wound my hands and scar my anxious feet;
I only care to know God's roses grow, 
And I may somewhere find their odor sweet.
I care not if they be not white, but red,
Red as the blood-drops from a wounded heart;
I only care to ease my aching head
With faith that somewhere God hath done His part.
I care not if, in years of such despair, 
I reach in vain and seize no purpose vast;
I only care that I sometime, somewhere, 
May find a meaning, shining at the last.
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