Could teach but how to die!
Sad, hopeless emperor, echoing the Preacher,
"All, all is vanity."
He slew the martyrs. Yet, through ages crying,
This noble truth they give:
"Life is but birth-throes. Death itself, not dying.
We pass to God—to live."
O blessed hope! O faith that conquers sorrow!
Pain, heart-break, all shall cease.
They are but gateways to a glad to-morrow.