Not depressing. I promise.

Only harder can it get;
There's more uphill before the down.
Yet, because now is lighter than then,
Why: instead of rejoicing, I frown?

The body is weak, the spirit too.
The hands hang down and drag.
Though laughter and smiles should habit be,
Complaint within doth nag.

There is an escape, though no ladder here.
'Tis far above my gaze.
Still, with prayer and mighty strength,
My Lord will there me raise.

"Oh help me scale the cold, slick walls,
And let me not despair."
Then glory be, before me see,
With each new word, a stair.

Every step He helps me build;
The finest materials used:
Humility, Obedience, and Faith,
Long-Suffering, Gratitude.

Soon, the door is at my hand;
I kneel upon the planks.
For though I reach it when I stand,
I am closer giving thanks.

-Eliza Woodhouse