For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are
your ways my ways, saith the Lord.
GOD, thou art good, but not to me.
Some dark, some high and holier plan
Is hid beyond the world with thee.
To the immortals, not to man,
God, thou art good.
I do conceive thee wholly wise,
And good beyond the power of touch.
Eternal lovingkindness lies
In all thy purposes; so much
I do conceive.
I do confess in thee above,
All that thy lovers have to thee
Ascribed, of fellowship and love.
The words of Jesus on the tree
I do confess.
Into thy hands I do commend
My spirit. All thy ways I trust;
In fear acknowledge to the end
Thy will, and perish with the dust
Into thy hands.
God, thou art good, but not to man.
Thy purposes do not contain
The mighty things I hope. Thy plan
Looks past humanity and pain.
God, thou art good.
Wow, double-talk much? I wonder who is being represented here: the author, or someone he knows or some imagined pietistic pessimist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reading it a second time, I detect such sarcasm. What a shallow, hunted view! Oh, that this speaker could see beyond the pain, to the goodness until now never acknowledged and accepted as offered to his own person.