Through the chill and ghostly Winter when the year is in its shroud,
And corruption preys on Nature, stooping fiercely from its cloud;
Through the light and through the darkness, through the rain and through the snow,
Striving onward without resting seeking it above, below,
In the earth, and in the water, in the rock, and in the clay,
Gathering up the sandy beaches, searching, sifting them away;
Never resting, but with spirits eager, breathless to attain,
Evermore they hurry forward to their purpose o'er life's plain,
With their garments waxen olden, and their sandals wearing out,
And the sinews growing weaker that once bore them up so stout,
With the vision ever dimmer to discern the cherish'd prize,
Till at length upon the highway, at each step some pilgrim dies,
His glazed eyes still feebly turning e'en in death unto the goal
That yet glimmers far beyond him, the life haven of his soul.
But a stalwart phalanx presseth onward still with hearts serene,
Strong in faith and stedfast courage, meeting toil with dauntless mien;
Working out their primal mission through the calm and through the blast,
Gath'ring fitness for the Future from the Present, and the Past.
Thus enduring, thus pursuing upheld by a mighty hand
Through all dangers of the travel, come they to the Golden Land,