WITH folded arms and drooping head
I stand, my heart's blest goal unwon,
My soul's high purpose unattained;
But life, but life goes hurrying on!

I pause and linger by the way,
With fainting heart and slumbering powers,
And still the grand, immortal height
Which I would climb before me towers.

And still, far up its rugged steep,
The poet-laurel mocks mine eyes;
While sweetly on its summit wave
The fadeless flowers of Paradise.

My voice is silent, though I mark
The toil and woe of human lives, —
The beauty of that human love,
That meekly suffers, trusts, and strives.

My voice is silent, though I see
The captive pining in his cell,
And hear the exiled patriot breathe,
O'er the wild seas, his sad farewell.

No song of joy is on my lip,
While Freedom's banners are unfurled,
And Freedom's fearless battle-shouts
And triumph-lays ring round the world.

No glow of rapturous feeling comes
To flush my cheek, or light mine eye,
While golden splendors of the morn
Are kindling all the eastern sky.

Nor when, while dews weigh down the rose,
I read amid the shadowy even
That bright Evangel of our God,
Whose words are worlds, the starry heaven.

Yet was my nature formed to feel
The gladness and the grief of life,
To thrill at Freedom's name, and joy
In all her brave and holy strife;

To tremble with the perfect sense
Of all things lovely or sublime, —
The glory of the midnight heaven,
The beauty of the morning time.

God-written thoughts are in my heart,
And deep within my being lie
Eternal truths and glorious hopes,
Which I must speak before I die.

Who shall restore the early faith,
The fresh, strong heart, the utterance bold?
Ah, when may be this weary weight
From off my groaning spirit rolled?

To Thee I turn, before whose throne
No earnest suppliant bows in vain;
My spirit's faint and lonely cry
Thou wilt not in thy might disdain.

Awake in me a truer life, —
A soul to labor and aspire!
Touch Thou my mortal lips, 0 God,
With thine own truth's immortal fire!

Be with me in my darkened hours;
Bind up my bruisèd heart once more;
The grandeur of a lofty hope
About my lowly being pour!

Give strength unto my spirit's wing,
Give light unto my spirit's eye,
And let the sunshine of thy smile
Upon my upward pathway lie!

Thus, when my soul in thy pure faith
Hath grown serene, and free, and strong,
Thy greatness may exalt my thought,
Thy love make beautiful my song.