Then Phoenix-like, beside the smoldering pile,
Kind friendship rose with open, outstretched hands,
But, ere I grasped them, death with icy smile
Had rudely snapp'd in twain the three-fold bands.

E'en while I mourned, I heard a thrilling voice
That said in stirring accents, "Up! arise!
Work, that in harvest time thou mayest rejoice!"
And Fame stood pointing to the brightening skies.

Then dreams, false phantoms, filled the gloaming air
And lured me, spell-bound, by a labyrinth maze,
But morning beams awakened new despair--
The meteor glories passed in mist and haze.

Through shady groves I strayed, and on before
Walked high-browed Knowledge, calm-eyed and severe
Unwearied still, I trod his footprints o'er,
But fainting fell, the longed-for prize anear.

Hard-smitten then, I wept; all woe-all gloom!
The heart-void still unfilled, ached keen and sore,
When through the inky darkness shot a gleam
Of new-born glory, unrevealed before.

Dear Lord! How frail these bauble-toys of Time
When Thy "forever" dawns upon the heart;
Thy perfect fullness, Saviour, how divine,
E'en while we taste its blessedness in part!
Still yesterday, to-day, while ages roll