Future Wisely Concealed Poem by John Bowring

O how wise that God hath hidden
All the future from our view!
O how well that 'tis forbidden
Coming darkness to look through!
If Time's page of hurrying fleetness
Were unveiled to readers here,
Joy itself would lose its sweetness,
Sorrow would become despair.


Now if storms the ocean cover,
Hope declares a calm is near
And when discord's tones are over,
Softened music meets the ear.
If the shadows of affliction
Round us gather as we go,
Soon some heavenly benediction
Wakens peace from slumbering woe.