Angels of Life and Death alike are his; Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er; Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, Against his messengers to shut the door? THE SINGERS. GOD sent his Singers upon earth The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Through groves he wandered, and by streams, The second, with a bearded face, And stirred with accents deep and loud A gray, old man, the third and last, While the majestic organ rolled And those who heard the singers three But the great Master said, "I see To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. "These are the three great chords of might, And he whose ear is tuned aright Will hear no discord in the three, A PSALM OF LIFE. WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints, that perhaps another, Let us, then, be up and doing, WEARINESS. O LITTLE feet! that such long years I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road! O little hands! that, weak or strong, Have still so long to give or ask; O little hearts! that throb and beat Now covers and conceals its fires. O little souls! as pure and white Direct from heaven, their source divine; How lurid looks this soul of mine! |