Comes there no blessed day for Sabbath-keeping,
No time within the temple to adore?

In faith's long contest have life's quenchless fountains
Bade calm defiance to the hostile sword?
But when, all beautiful upon the mountains,
Shall come the herald of our peace restored?

Must we forever urge the brain with learning,
And add to moral, intellectual woes?
Nor hold in peace the spoils we have been earning,
And find in wisdom's self the mind's repose?

Long have we watch'd, and risen late and early,
Rising to toil, and watching but to weep;
When will the blessing come like dewdrops pearly,
"On heaven's beloved ones even while they sleep?"

Since life began, our life has been beginning,
That ever-nascent future's treacherous vow;
When shall we find, the weary contest winning
A present treasure, an enduring _now_?

Ten thousand nameless earthly aims pursuing,
Hope we in vain the recompense to see,
And must our total life expire in _doing_,
And never find us leisure time _to be_?

Has not our life a germ of real perfection,
As holds the tiny seed the forest's pride?