I know not, if, as down life’s stream I float
With look divine,
Some other hand will guide my fragile boat
Better than mine.
I know not, when right out of sight of port,
High on the crest,
Of raging billows which I vainly fought
I shall find rest.
I know not if dear spirit friends of yore
Will hear my voice,
And when they meet me safe upon yon shore
They will rejoice.
But this I know that He, my Lord, will stand
With glance of love
And hand stretched out to lead me o’er the strand
To Heaven above.
MOBILITE.
I sought the fragrance of the roses’ breath,
Bending beneath their burden of sweet dew;
How could I reconcile the thought of death
With blooms, which in such matchless beauty grew?
I sought the lily, pure as a pale bride,
So stately with its waxen petals wet,
Green-stemmed and slender, and it gently sighed
“Yet a few days and all my sun is set.”
I sought the woods wherein the whispering wind
Chanted a lullaby into my listening ear,
And faintly came an echoing voice behind,
“E’en as the leaves I change and disappear.”
I sought old ocean with its ceaseless moan,
Flinging white clinging arms of spumy spray
To grasp the shore, then in a solemn tone
It made reply, “I too must pass away.”
I sought the stars which in their orbits sway,
And just as day obscures their brilliant light,
The star of faith, though doubt may cloud the way,
Illumes with fervent glow the mists of night.