Wondering

upon the unexpected death of a friend

The sole remaining Son of Thunder had
To wonder why the older, braver son
Of Zebedee was slain, and he, the lad,
Was left there to explain why it was done.

Perhaps I ought to know already why
The years of dread and prayers against disease
Should be by sickness unforeseen surprised.
But still I wonder, wearing out my knees.

My friend was never scrupulous to say
Less than he wondered. He supposed that Man
Has every right to wonder till the Day
When God reveals the details of His plan.

If he who had more questions than the rest
Of us combined could wonder, but believe
That he would be with answers someday blessed,
My faith can take my wondering as I grieve.