All the surrounding vast array we meet,
The sphere of God and present home of Man,
Is part and parcel needed to complete
The home that every conscious life must greet—
As in the womb the infant but a span
Has there prepared a world to meet its needs
Till Nature has completed every plan
For its reception, and where too she breeds
All things required to aid the destiny that leads.
46.
Behold, oh! Man, how glorious a thing
It is to be! Thou art the type supreme
Of all that is; and couldst thou only bring
Thine eyes to see the grandeur which I sing,
Thou wouldst not grovel in thy waking dream,
But rise to higher, nobler, juster aims,
And make the very vaults of Heaven gleam
With smiles of angels, whose prolonged acclaims
Would shake the earth, aglow with their ethereal flame.
47.
But now my task is done. I drop the pen
And turn to earth, where bodily affairs
Call me to tussle with my fellow men
For my small share of sustenance, and then
Essay to help the weaker gather theirs;
Would that I had the power to clearer make
The meaning of my theme; but all my prayers
Are vain to help my cause, or even wake
One echo in the mind that feels no thirst to slake.
48.
Perhaps some day some abler hand will string
The lyre to loftier, clearer, sweeter tones,
And of Man's joyous destiny will sing,
And o'er the earth its thrilling echoes fling,
Waking responsive feeling in the zones,
While listening from my spirit mansion I—
Who long since in the ashes left my bones—
Will smiling hear the notes that rise on high,
And fill with rapturous music the o'ervaulting sky.
Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible.