MORITURUS
Lord, when my hour to part is come,
And all the powers of being sink,
When eyes are filmed, and lips are dumb,
And scarce I hang upon the brink.
Grant me but this—in that strange light
Or blind amid confused alarms,
One moment’s strength to stand upright
And cast myself into Thy arms.
ALONE
This is the shore of God’s lone love, which stirs
And heaves to some majestic tidal law;
And bright the illimitable horizons’ awe;
God’s love; yet all my soul cries out for hers.
FAME
My arches crumble; that bright dome I flung
Heavenward in pride decays; yet all unmoved
One column soars, and, graven in sacred tongue,
Endure the victor words—“This man was loved.”