and to feel that there was no help . A sad eclipse of the serene soul , a sharp struggle of the young life with death , but both were mercifully brief , and then the natural rebellion over , the old peace returned more beautiful than ever . With the wreck of her frail body , Beth 's soul grew strong , and though she said little , those about her felt that she was ready , saw that the first pilgrim called was likewise the fittest , and waited with her on the shore , trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed the river . Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said `` I feel stronger when you are here . '' She slept on a couch in the room , waking often to renew the fire , to feed , lift , or wait upon the patient creature who seldom asked for anything , and ` tried not to be a trouble ' . All day she haunted the room , jealous of any other nurse , and prouder of being chosen then than of any honor her life ever brought her . Precious and helpful hours to Jo , for now her heart received the teaching that it needed . Lessons in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn them , charity for all , the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly forget unkindness , the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy , and the sincere faith that fears nothing , but trusts undoubtingly . Often when she woke Jo found Beth reading in her well-worn little book , heard her singing softly , to beguile the sleepless night , or saw her lean her face upon her hands , while slow tears dropped through the transparent fingers , and Jo would lie watching her with thoughts too deep for tears , feeling that Beth , in her simple , unselfish way , was trying to wean herself from the dear old life , and fit herself for the life to come , by sacred words of comfort , quiet prayers , and the music she loved so well . Seeing this did more for Jo than the wisest sermons , the saintliest hymns , the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter . For with eyes made clear by many tears , and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow , she recognized the beauty of her sister 's life -- uneventful , unambitious , yet full of the genuine virtues which ` smell sweet , and blossom in the dust ' , the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven , the true success which is possible to all . One night when Beth looked among the books upon her table , to find something to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as hard to bear as pain , as she turned the leaves of her old favorite , Pilgrims 's Progress , she found a little paper , scribbled over in Jo 's hand . The name caught her eye and the blurred look of the lines made her sure that tears had fallen on it . `` Poor Jo ! She 's fast asleep , so I wo n't wake her to ask leave . She shows me all her things , and I do n't think she 'll mind if I look at this '' , thought Beth , with a glance at her sister , who lay on the rug , with the tongs beside her , ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart . MY BETH Sitting patient in the shadow Till the blessed light shall come , A serene and saintly presence Sanctifies our troubled home . Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows Break like ripples on the strand Of the deep and solemn river Where her willing feet now stand . O my sister , passing from me , Out of human care and strife , Leave me , as a gift , those virtues Which have beautified your life . Dear , bequeath me that great patience Which has power to sustain A cheerful , uncomplaining spirit In its prison-house of pain .
Give me , for I need it sorely , Of that courage , wise and sweet , Which has XXXXX the path of duty Green beneath your willing feet .
Seeing ask caught lift made makes passing softened thought waking