STEALINGS
I steal a smile from thy fair face
And hide it deep within my heart;
I steal a shadow of thy grace
And hide it deep within my soul;
I steal a ray from thy bright eyes
And hide it deep within my mind;
I steal the echo of thy sighs
And weave them softly in my dreams;
A word from thy sweet lips I steal
And hide it deep within my thoughts;
I steal the rapture of thy thrill
And drown it deep within my blood;
And from these thefts, these sacred stealings
Are born the bright flames of my love,
And the fountain of all sweet feelings,
And the stream of my life’s joy.
But even if he can for a time forget the toil and trouble of the world in a personal joy, his first love is with the workers and with them he asks to have his Resting Place—
Seek me not ’mid blooming meadows,
Not there my spirit you can trace,
Where workers toil like spectral shadows,
’Tis there you’ll find my resting place.
Seek me not where birds are singing,
Not there my spirit you can trace;
A slave am I—where chains are ringing,
’Tis there you’ll find my resting place.
Seek me not ’mid fountains dashing,
Not there my spirit you can trace,
Where tears are falling, teeth are gnashing,
’Tis there you’ll find my resting place.
And lov’st thou me with love’s true passion,
Thy steps unto my spirit trace,
Bring joy with thee; in love’s true fashion,
Make sweet to me my resting place.
