A Fuller Life

" It is the branch that bears the fruit,
that feels the knife
To prune it for a larger growth,
A fuller life.

Though every budding twig be lopped,
And every grace
Of swaying tendril, springing lead,
be lost a space,

O thou whose life of joy seems reft,
Of beauty shorn;
Whose aspirations like in dust,
All bruised and torn,

Rejoice, tho' each desire, each dream,
Each hope of thine
Shall fall and fade, it is the hand
Of Love Divine

That holds the knife, that cuts and breaks
with tenderest touch,
that thou, whose life has borne some fruit
May'st now bear much."--Annie Johnson Flint