THE heavenly way! The narrow path that leads Where gulf and steep and burning desert bar, Till, high and clear, it gains the golden meads And the soft radiance of the morning star. What dost thou care, O Soul, for present gloom, The wind's wild tumult and the surging sea? Bear thyself grandly through the darkest doom, Thou heir of all that was and is to be. Only hold fast to heaven! The black night speeds; The shadows vanish where the dawn gleams far; And lo! the rapture of the golden meads, And peace celestial with the morning star! |