DIES not the soul when dust to dust is given;
Even as we are in earth-life are we still,
Save from the worn-out garment rent and riven,
That may have proved a fetter to the will.

Not unto demons void of good converted,
Not unto angels void of error—no;
But human-spirited, and human-hearted,
We on our way with pain or pleasure go.

Not reft of feeling—nay, with feelings keener
To others' woes, more keen to others' joys;
With bosoms purer and with minds serener—
Though human still, more humane we and wise.

Not more to be despised, nor venerated,
For aught from change of state acquired or caught.
But at our inner value estimated,
Shall we be shunned or courted as we ought.

Not to their fabled hell, nor fabled heaven,
By the good Father's will are we consigned,
But to a sphere of human action—even,
To one adapted to each frame and mind.

Not one sweet feeling passeth unrewarded
Not one black deed can go unpunished—not—
Not one swift thought can vanish unrecorded
And give no colour to our future lot.

Not words but thoughts, and not on faith but actions,
And on whatever gives our acts their hue,
The heart's allurements, and the mind's distractions—
Is based the verdict we shall prize or rue.

Yes, such the future that awaits the spirit;
Then let us pause and think while pause we can,
How best we may the meed eternal merit,
That shall be to the weal eterne of man.