At length he fell ill;
So he drew up his will,
Just in time to depart from his mansion of clay,
And he said to old Death,
With his last gasp of breath,
“Don’t hunt for my soul, for I know it won’t pay.”
O, ’tis sad to rehearse,
In prose or in verse,
The faults and the follies that lead men astray.
For gold is but dross,
And a terrible loss,
When conscience and manhood are given in pay.
Then be not deceived,
Though men have believed
That ’tis lawful to sin in a general way,
But stick to the right
With all of your might,
For Truth is eternal, and always will pay.
THE LIVING WORD.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
“And the Word was made flesh and dwelt in men.”
Eternal, Self-existent Soul!
From whom Life’s issues take their start,
Thou art the undivided Whole,
Of whom each creature forms a part.
Thy boundless being’s distant reach,
Our finite vision may not see,
But this we know, that each with each,
We live and move alone in Thee.
“In the beginning was the Word”—
The Word, as present now, as then,
Which, in the heart of Nature, stirred
“The Life which was the light of men.”
Through Chaos and Confusion’s night
Streamed forth the light of Love divine,
And lit along Creation’s hight,
Unnumbered fires in glittering line.
Earth’s fiery heart, with battle shocks,
Beat fiercely in her granite breast,
Leaving on scarred and blackened rocks
The record of her wild unrest.
Rich ores in molten currents swept—
Like fire within her veins they ran—
While in the womb of Nature slept
The embryo prophecy of man.