Not in my way nor at my time
⁠My heart's petitions answer gain;
I ask, and all my days are full
⁠Of longing that I may attain.
"This time," I cry, "do not delay;
Give me the boon I ask to-day."
 
But opportunity goes by.
⁠And while I pray my lips are fed
With something that I have not asked.
⁠Nay, what I wanted not, instead.
But still the food is sweet, I find.
And leaves no taste of gall behind.

The Master's hand has blessed the gift.
⁠And so it must be good for me;
And yet my heart goes sighing still
⁠For that which I had hoped to see.
No pain or labour would I spare
If he would only grant this prayer.

I see the hands of others filled
⁠With that which I have been denied;
And they care not, but scorn perchance.
⁠Because they are so well supplied.
I see and pray {whate'er my quest),
"Lord, let me know when I am blest!"

I wander on, nor e'er forget
⁠The treasure that I crave the most.
And think "Perhaps it is too late,
⁠All opportunity is lost;"
When lo! I see the blessing sweet
Is lying, fair, beneath my feet!