The crisis of man's destiny is Now, a still recurring danger;
Who can tell the trials and temptations coming with the coming hour?
Thou standest a target-like Sebastian, and the arrows whistle near thee;
Who knoweth when he may be hit? for great is the company of archers.
Each breath is burdened with a bidding, and every minute hath its mission;
For spirits, good and bad, cluster on the thickly-peopled air:
Sin may blast thee, grace may bless thee, good or ill this hour:
Chance, and change, and doubt, and fear, are parasites of all.
A man's life is a tower, with a staircase of many steps,
That, as he toileth upward, crumble successively behind him: