Tears

Go Home if thou hast any grief, and tell
    Thy Father what it is;
The world is ill, and may not use thee well,
    And thou hast gone amiss.
Weep on thy Father’s bosom, he is kind —
    Tell all thy mind;
Grief cankers, pent — but spent
    Purgeth, as water runnels purify
    By flowing, — and great showers clear the sky.
God will not ask thee ‘hast thou sinned or no’—
    When thou has kneeled,
For if thou had’st no wound, thou would’st not go
        Moaningly so
    And beg Him, to be healed

If thou hast sorrow for thy sinning, such
    Salveth its own heart-sore,
Yet if thou pinest hopeless overmuch,
    Thou sinnest more.
God loveth tears, but rather, the good cheer
    Of a good heart, if so
It has not — for ill seeding of whilere— 
    To reap more present woe.

Thou shalt not want beads in thy rosary
When thou wilt pray — Better than they
    Thy tears shall serve;
Good saints will keep them for thy jewelry
    Till Doom-day, in reserve.
Then all the tears thou did’st count for sin,
    Shall shine upon thy head
Like pearls, to grace thy coming in
    Unto thy heavenly kin,
Weeping for joy of them that were in sorrow shed.