THE AGES come and go, | |
The Centuries pass as Years; | |
My hair is white as the snow, | |
My feet are weary and slow, | |
The earth is wet with my tears! | 5 |
The kingdoms crumble and fall | |
Apart, like a ruined wall, | |
Or a bank that is undermined | |
By a rivers ceaseless flow, | |
And leave no trace behind! | 10 |
The world itself is old; | |
The portals of Time unfold | |
On hinges of iron, that grate | |
And groan with the rust and the weight, | |
Like the hinges of a gate | 15 |
That hath fallen to decay; | |
But the evil doth not cease; | |
There is war instead of peace, | |
Instead of love there is hate; | |
And still I must wander and wait, | 20 |
Still I must watch and pray, | |
Not forgetting in whose sight, | |
A thousand years in their flight | |
Are as a single day. | |
|
The life of man is a gleam | 25 |
Of light that comes and goes | |
Like the course of the Holy Stream, | |
The cityless river, that flows | |
From fountains no one knows, | |
Through the Lake of Galilee, | 30 |
Through forests and level lands, | |
Over rocks, and shallows, and sands | |
Of a wilderness wild and vast, | |
Till it findeth its rest at last | |
In the desolate Dead Sea! | 35 |
But alas! alas for me, | |
Not yet this rest shall be! | |
|
What, then! doth Charity fail? | |
Is Faith of no avail? | |
Is Hope blown out like a light | 40 |
By a gust of wind in the night? | |
The clashing of creeds, and the strife | |
Of the many beliefs, that in vain | |
Perplex mans heart and brain, | |
Are nought but the rustle of leaves, | 45 |
When the breath of God upheaves | |
The boughs of the Tree of Life, | |
And they subside again! | |
And I remember still | |
The words, and from whom they came, | 50 |
Not he that repeateth the name, | |
But he that doeth the will! | |
|
And Him evermore I behold | |
Walking in Galilee, | |
Through the cornfields waving gold, | 55 |
In hamlet, in wood, and in wold, | |
By the shores of the Beautiful Sea. | |
He toucheth the sightless eyes; | |
Before him the demons flee; | |
To the dead he sayeth: Arise! | 60 |
To the living: Follow me! | |
And that voice still soundeth on | |
From the centuries that are gone, | |
To the centuries that shall be! | |
|
From all vain pomps and shows, | 65 |
From the pride that overflows, | |
And the false conceits of men; | |
From all the narrow rules | |
And subtleties, of Schools, | |
And the craft of tongue and pen: | 70 |
Bewildered in its search, | |
Bewildered with the cry: | |
Lo, here! lo, there, the Church! | |
Poor, sad Humanity | |
Through all the dust and heat | 75 |
Turns back with bleeding feet, | |
By the weary road it came, | |
Unto the simple thought | |
By the Great Master taught, | |
And that remaineth still: | 80 |
Not he that repeateth the name, | |
But he that doeth the will!
THE END. | |