HOW WE RISE
Heaven is not reached at a single bound,
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies.
And we mount to the summit round by round.
I count this thing to be grandly true,
That a noble deed is a step toward God,
Lifting the soul from the common sod
To a purer air and a broader view.
We rise by the things that are under our feet,
By what we have mastered of greed and gain,
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.
We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light;
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night
Our lives are trailing in sordid dust.
We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings,
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay.
Wings for the angels, but feet for the men,
We may borrow the wings to find the way,
We may hope and aspire and resolve and pray,
But our feet must rise or we’ll fall again.
Only in dreams is a ladder thrown
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart and the vision falls,
And the sleeper awakes on his pillow of stone.
Heaven is not reached at a single bound,
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to the summit round by round.
—J. G. Holland.