From strife, that in a far-off future lies; And angel glances (veiled now by life's sorrow) Draw our hearts to some beloved eyes. Life is only bright when it proceedeth Towards a truer, deeper life above; Human love is sweetest when it leadeth To a more divine and perfect love. Learn the mystery of progression duly: Do not call each glorious change, decay; But know we only hold our treasures truly, When it seems as if they passed away. Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness; In that want their beauty lies: they roll Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness, Bearing onward man's reluctant soul. STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY. STRIVE: yet I do not promise The prize you dream of to-day Will not fade when you think to grasp it, And melt in your hand away; But another and holier treasure, You would now perchance disdain, Will come when your toil is over, And pay you for all your pain. Wait; yet I do not tell you ished, And a shadow upon its brow; |