Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2012
To live how we want,
And to do what we please.
Can sometimes be tough,
And not done with great ease.
Life works in many ways,
Some good and some bad.
Which stops us in our tracks,
And makes us really mad.
We can't all get,
What we want right away.
And waiting is needed,
To show us the way.
So learn the lesson now,
That some never learn.
Waiting patiently,
Will allow you your turn.
Poet Unknown
'Tis a lesson you should heed,
Try, try, try again;
If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try, try again.
Once or twice though you should fail,
Try again;
If you would at last prevail,
Try again.
If we strive, 'tis no disgrace
Though we may not win the race;
What should you do in that case?
Try again.
If you find your task is hard,
Try again;
Time will bring you your reward,
Try again.
All that other folks can do,
With your patience should not you?
Only keep this rule in view-
Try again.
Poet: Unknown
It takes a while for flowers to bloom
After we plant the seeds,
We have to give them loving care,
Like every flower needs . . .
They don't just push up through the sod
And blossom over night,
But when they do burst through in bloom,
That make a lovely sight!
Sometimes it's that way with us, too,
Some things take time, we find
So just be patient and keep faith
Till this is all behind!
Poet: Sarah Doudney
There are days of silent sorrow
In the seasons of our life;
There are wild, despairing moments,
There are hours of mental strife;
There are times of stony anguish,
When the tears refuse to fall;
But the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all.
Youth and love are oft impatient,
Seeking things beyond their reach;
But the heart grows sick of hoping
Ere it learns what life can teach;
For before the fruit be gathered
We must see the blossoms fall;
And the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all.
We can bear the heat of conflict,
Though the sudden, crushing blow,
Beating back our gathered forces,
For a moment lay us low;
We may rise again beneath it
None the weaker for the fall;
But the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all.
For it wears the eager spirit,
As the salt waves wear the stone,
And the garb of hope grows threadbare
Till the brightest tints are flown;
Then amid youth's radiant tresses
Silent snows begin to fall;
Oh! the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all.
But at last we learn the lesson
That God knoweth what is best;
For with wisdom cometh patience,
And with patience cometh rest.
Yea, a golden thread is shining
Through the tangled woof of fate;
And our hearts shall thank him meekly,
That he taught us how to wait.
Poet: Unknown
Learn to wait - life's hardest lesson,
Conned perchance, through blinding tears,
While the heart-throbs sadly echo
To the tread of passing years.
Learn to wait - hope's slow fruition;
Faint not, though the way seem long;
There is joy in each condition,
Hearts, through suffering, may grow strong.
Constant sunshine, howe'er welcome,
Ne'er would ripen fruit or flower;
Giant oaks owe half their greatness
To the scathing tempest's power.
Thus a soul untouched by sorrow
Aims not at a higher state;
Joy seeks not a brighter morrow,
Only sad hearts learn to wait.
Human strength and human greatness
Spring not from life's sunny side;
Heroes must be more than driftwood
Floating on a waveless tide.
Poet: Unknown
I was not patient in that olden time
When my unchastened heart began to long
For bliss that lay beyond its reach; my prime
Was wild, impulsive, passionate, and strong.
I could not wait for happiness and love,
Heaven-sent, to come and nestle in my breast;
I could not realize that time might prove
That patient waiting would avail me best.
"Let me be happy now," my heart cried out,
"In mine own way, and with my chosen lot;
The future is too dark and full of doubt
For me to tarry, and I trust it not.
Take all my blessings, all I am and have,
But give that glimpse of heaven before the grave"
"Ah me! " God heard my wayward, selfish cry,
And, taking pity on my blinded heart,
He bade the angel of strong grief draw nigh,
Who pierced my bosom in its tenderest part.
I drank wrath's wine-cup to the bitter lees,
With strong amazement and a broken will;
Then, humbled, straightway fell upon my knees,
And God doth know my heart is kneeling still;
I have grown patient, seeking not to choose
Mine own blind lot, but take that God shall send,
In which, if what I long for I should lose,
I know the loss will work some blessed end,
Some better fate for mine and me than I
Could ever compass underneath the sky.
Poet: Elizabeth A. Allen
Oh, trifling tasks so often done,
Yet ever to be done anew!
Oh, cares which come with every sun,
Morn after morn, the long years through!
We shrink beneath their paltry sway,
The irksome calls of every day.
Ah! more than martyr's aureole,
And more than hero's heart of fire,
We need the humble strength of soul
Which daily toils and ills require.
Sweet Patience! grant us, if you may,
An added grace for every day.
