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26
WE ARE SPIRITS.
We are spirits, wildered spirits,
Errant from our native sphere;
Busy now, but with to-morrow
Who of us will still be here?
We 're amid time's dust and vapor,
Chasing shadowy shapes about,
Each with life's uncertain taper,
Which a moment's wing puts out.
Errant from our native sphere;
Busy now, but with to-morrow
Who of us will still be here?
We 're amid time's dust and vapor,
Chasing shadowy shapes about,
Each with life's uncertain taper,
Which a moment's wing puts out.
We are spirits, burdened spirits,
Masked, and wearing cloaks of clay;
Grieved, and careworn,—wrung, and stricken,
Robbed, and wounded, where we stray.
Yet, on earth, the common mother
Of the forms that veil us here,
Do we fain to one another
Use the smile to hide the tear.
Masked, and wearing cloaks of clay;
Grieved, and careworn,—wrung, and stricken,
Robbed, and wounded, where we stray.
Yet, on earth, the common mother
Of the forms that veil us here,
Do we fain to one another
Use the smile to hide the tear.
We are spirits, restless spirits,
Eager still for something more,—
Something we shall ne'er determine
Till our mortal search is o'er.
Grasping, losing, self-deluding,—
What we fondly hope to stay,—
What our hearts are fondly brooding,
Is but fledged to fly away!
Eager still for something more,—
Something we shall ne'er determine
Till our mortal search is o'er.
Grasping, losing, self-deluding,—
What we fondly hope to stay,—
What our hearts are fondly brooding,
Is but fledged to fly away!
27
We are spirits, light-winged spirits;
And our pinions, never furled,
Waft us on, we know not whither,
Till we 've passed a passing world.
With an heirship to recover
In the country of our birth,
Vainly do we hang and hover
O'er our little heaps of earth.
And our pinions, never furled,
Waft us on, we know not whither,
Till we 've passed a passing world.
With an heirship to recover
In the country of our birth,
Vainly do we hang and hover
O'er our little heaps of earth.
We are spirits, fearful spirits,
Having powers we do not know,
Which, with use of talents lent us,
Light eternal is to show.
Time is ever, ever hasting:
Endless life, or endless death,
While our moments fast are wasting,
Hangs upon a transient breath!
Having powers we do not know,
Which, with use of talents lent us,
Light eternal is to show.
Time is ever, ever hasting:
Endless life, or endless death,
While our moments fast are wasting,
Hangs upon a transient breath!
We are spirits, born of Spirit;
God our Father; heaven the home
He would have us seek, as children
Never, never more to roam.
Yet, like one with bawbles playing
On the way, at fall of night,
We may perish by delaying,
With our Father's House in sight.
God our Father; heaven the home
He would have us seek, as children
Never, never more to roam.
Yet, like one with bawbles playing
On the way, at fall of night,
We may perish by delaying,
With our Father's House in sight.
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