What care we for the New, then?
Oh, lone is he, and sadly pines,
Who loves with zeal the olden times!

Those old times when the spirits light
To heaven as flame ascended;
The Father's hand and features bright
When men yet comprehended;
When many a mortal, lofty-souled,
Yet bore the mark of heavenly mould.

Those olden times when budded still
The stems of ancient story,
And children, to do Heaven's will,
In pain and death sought glory;
Those times when life and pleasure spoke,
Yet many a heart with fond love broke.

Those old times when in fires of youth
Was God himself revealed,
And early death, in love and truth,
His sweet existence sealed,
Who put not from him care and pain,
That dear to us he might remain.

With trembling longing these we see,
By darkness now belated,
In Time's dominions ne'er will be
Our ardent thirsting sated.
First to our home 'tis need we go,