As softly it beams in silvery light,
'Mid silence it pleads--they pause all aghast--
'Tis Jesus who calls, His Cross in their path,
Cross misty with tears, with sacrifice fraught,
While deeply inlaid with sorrows 'tis wrought,
Divided from world by widening stream
It leadeth through pain earth's conquests a gleam.

Shall I? Shall I not? Self-questioned each youth,
Take up this Cross all laden with truth?
Shall lingering fear of poverty's vale,
The scoffing of friends if honors should fail,
Bar us accepting a promise of love
By way of the Cross--the gift from above?
Silently each life's curtain unfurled,
One bends to his Cross, one flees to the world.

Two pictures are drawn on life's beaten page,
The faces once seen have ripened with age;
The purpose of each, their loved ones a dower,
And conflicts of life are wielding with power.
Surfeited was one with all earthly lusts,
His soul he'ed surrendered to prince of earth's trusts;
One bearing a Cross, e'er toiling for right,
Walking with Jesus in spirit waxed bright.

There's pictured again in oft' changing scene,
A tottering form appears in the dream,
Furrowed his face from indulgence in sins,
Eternity lost, to gold fondly clings.