What Matters It?

What mattcrs it, my curions fricnfl, where Hos Oor Beavenly harbor and our land of rest? iVTiether it be beyoi:d tho azure skiea Or in somo lower world, God knoweth best. ;"t oflcrs safety from our cares, and so What matters whether it De high or low, 3t offers rest ; what more should moríais knowf "Best fron; the woariness of burdencd dayg. Of bitter longings atrd of evl hours, Df dotifü leadHg us thronjli darkencd ways And into efforts far boyond our powe s, Of dark temptations into secret sin, Of constant labor, earth's poor piuds to win, Of spirits deafeued by the stnfe and din. It matters nothing as to when or whcre We ünd the haven and the welcome home: Let cunous doubt give place to trustinsi prayer, Andno wcak soul through spcculations roara q scek for sealcd-up secrels, hidilcn things, Knouh for us, if on eternal rings. We reacii the country of those botter thinjrs. Vex not thy sp rit, O aspirinj? man, But l:vc thy days as eaniest woi kers must, Nor try to pierco thy God's mvsteriousplan Whicho'ü. ' to nl'fe of trust. 3ome day, somewhere, while couutless ages roll, Thy hungry he;irt shall comprehend the whole, The vail be parted tcjr ïhy thankful soul.