I think that God is proud of those who bear
A sorrow bravely-proud indeed of them
Who walk straight through the dark to find Him there,
And kneel in faith to touch his garment's hem.
Oh, proud of them who lift their heads to shake
Away the tears from eyes that have grown dim,
Who tighten quivering lips and turn to take
The only road they know that leads to Him.
How proud He must be of them-He who knows
All sorrow, and how hard grief is to bear!
I think He sees them coming, and He goes
With outstretched arms and hands to meet them there,
And with a look, a touch on hand or head,
Each finds his hurt heart strangely comforted.
Grace Noll Crowell