These blows of fate that shake our troubled life,
This long, long sorrow o'er our parted fate,
Like foes assailing us with armed hate,
But drive us closer, to resist the strife.
The briefer joys, that make a moment rife
With dreams ecstatic of the blissful state
Which might be ours, if hand with hand could mate,
Lure us to murmur faintly, 'Husband!'--'Wife!'
I thank thee, Heaven, that not by night nor day,
In calm nor storm, in happiness nor woe,
Can earthly chance our wakeful love betray!
Serene and strong, he wends his homeward way,
Through life and death, to where the splendors glow
Which he, God's herald, promised to our clay.