Songs of A Wayfarer By William Davies |
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 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
CCXXI.
[Hast thou kept faith through sorrows fathomless]
Hast thou kept faith through sorrows fathomless;
And gleaned thy meed of good from endless ill;
Through blood and fire never flinched or turned:
Counting men's praise as straw; their blame as less:
And, by the stern dominion of thy will,
Sat calm when all about thee seethed and burned?
And gleaned thy meed of good from endless ill;
Through blood and fire never flinched or turned:
Counting men's praise as straw; their blame as less:
And, by the stern dominion of thy will,
Sat calm when all about thee seethed and burned?
Unthwarted by fierce passion's mastery,
Hast though walked in the world of light with God,
Obedient to his better law; and clung
To truth; and given the lie to every lie;
Treading beneath thy feet, as Jesus trod,
The pleasures and the wealth before thee flung?
Hast though walked in the world of light with God,
Obedient to his better law; and clung
To truth; and given the lie to every lie;
Treading beneath thy feet, as Jesus trod,
The pleasures and the wealth before thee flung?
Hast thou drank in the morning-dawn like wine;
And kissed the dewdrop from the folded rose;
And learned the language of the wind and sea:
Yet left the lovèd summer's shade and shine
To hold companionship with human woes,
And watch by beds of moaning misery?
And kissed the dewdrop from the folded rose;
And learned the language of the wind and sea:
Yet left the lovèd summer's shade and shine
To hold companionship with human woes,
And watch by beds of moaning misery?
192
Then shalt thou find no enemy in Time;
And Death, whom all men fear, shall hold no strife
With thee; and scoffs of men shall fall like flakes
Of snow on fire, whilst thou dost sit sublime,
The crownèd monarch of a well spent life:
That empire which the Eternal Master makes
To those brave souls whose will is strong to climb.
And Death, whom all men fear, shall hold no strife
With thee; and scoffs of men shall fall like flakes
Of snow on fire, whilst thou dost sit sublime,
The crownèd monarch of a well spent life:
That empire which the Eternal Master makes
To those brave souls whose will is strong to climb.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |