If far from thee he pines in twilight dim,
⁠Mercy, just God! I pray thee on my knees;
His hope in thee, thy tender love for him,
⁠Dear Lord, remember these!

Our souls abide in tenements of clay,
⁠At every step we stumble as we go,
Thou knowest, Lord, how difficult the way
⁠We travel here below.

How hard, amidst the loves, and hopes, and fears
⁠Of this wide world, calmly to do our part,
Nor give its thrilling joys and songs and tears
⁠Too much of our weak heart!

But, oh, my God, I offer unto thee
⁠The blood of Jesus: that all bonds can break,
And lift all burdens. Now, depart from me
⁠Awhile, to that dark lake,

My angel guardian! stir with thy cool breath
⁠His fiery mantle; whisper, soft and low,
Comfort to soothe that anguish worse than death
⁠Souls without God must know.

Let thy fair aureole shine upon his night,
⁠Thy loving arms protect him from his fears;
There all are weeping! let thy voice unite
⁠With those sad sighs and tears.

Point from his prison to the heaven above,
⁠Tell him that thou, when all this pain is done,
Will greet him there — that there the God of love
⁠Is longing for his son.

Tell him no saint, in his ecstatic prayer,
⁠Musing upon the eternal loveliness,
Has ever caught one glimpse of what is there,
⁠That unimagined bliss!

Put thy arms round him, give him sweet relief,
⁠And then, if he should ask who bade thee fly
To soothe his anguish and assuage his grief,
⁠O tell him it was I!

Keep in thy breast, a sacred trust and dear,
⁠His loving pain, his longings and his cries;
Then soar to heaven, and whisper in God’s ear
⁠The echo of his sighs;

And then, from heaven to earth and earthly things,
⁠Come back, for, ah! God knows if I should be
Faithful for long, without thy two white wings
⁠Between the world and me!

There must be something after all this woe,
⁠A sweet fruition from the harrowed past;
Rest some day for this pacing to and fro;
⁠A tender sunbeam and dear flowers at last.

There will be something when these days are done,
⁠Something more fair by far than starry nights —
A prospect limitless, as one by one
⁠Embodied castles crown the airy heights.

So cheer up, heart, and for that morrow wait!
⁠Dream what you will, but press toward the dream;
Let fancy guide dull effort through the gate,
⁠And face the current, would she cross the stream.

Then when that something lies athwart the way —
⁠Coming unsought as good things seem to do —
'Twill prove beneath the flush of setting day
⁠A nobler meed than now would beckon you.

For lifted up by constant, forward strife,
⁠Hope will attain so marvellous a height,
There can be nothing found within this life
⁠After the day to form a fitting night.

So heaven alone shall ever satisfy,
⁠And God's own light be ever light enough
To guide the purified, ennobled eye
⁠Toward the smooth which lies beyond the rough.

There will be something when these clouds skim by —
⁠A bounteous yielding from the fruitful past;
Sweet peace and rest upon the pathway lie,
⁠E'en though but death and flowers at the last.

O Summer-time, so passing sweet,
But heavy with the breath of flowers,
But languid with the fervent heat,

They chide amiss who call thee fleet, —
Thee, with thy weight of daylight hours,
O Summer-time, so passing sweet!

Young Summer, thou art too replete,
Too rich in choice of joys and powers,
But languid with the fervent heat.

Adieu! my face is set to meet
Bleak Winter, with his pallid showers, —
O Summer-time so passing sweet!

Old Winter steps with swifter feet,
He lingers not in wayside bowers,
He is not languid with the heat;

His rounded day, a pearl complete,
Gleams on the unknown night that lowers;
O Summer-time, so passing sweet,
But languid with the fervent heat!