THE LIFE THAT SATISFIES.
By Eliza H. Morton
With haughty pride the heart may say: "I have
No need of strength outside of self. This life
Alone can give me truth, and love, and fill
The yearnings of my soul." O foolish man,
To thus exalt the clay above the hand
Of Him who seeks to fashion it! He who
Looks not above the dim, low hills of earth
Sees not the heights that sunward rise beyond
This weary world. A tiny wreath of smoke,
A fragile flower, a drop of dew, a blade
Of grass, the shadow of a shade is life.
All feel the ebb and flow within of that
Which, like a restless tide, impels them on,
And yet some say, "The force is ours." With song
And smile they drink the cup of earthly bliss
And lose themselves amid the waves of time. How grand is life to him who stands in awe
Before its mighty miracle and views
The path between the cradle and the grave,
As one beholds a road that leads to home!
The torch of intellect grows dim with age,
But God's great lamp of truth swings low; and man
May reach far up and touch its golden beams
And gather brightness to himself. O Star
Of Hope! O sweet mysterious One! We bow,
We worship, and adore. No poet's dream
Is this we grasp by faith. It is revealed.
We know it's true, and lo, it makes us free! The low horizon of this earthly life
Recedes. The dark and gloomy clouds depart;
The mighty beams of Christ's divinity
Shine in our souls and kindle there a flame,
So sacred in its glow that other hearts,
Beholding, long to feel the warmth and power.
Humanity puts on a brighter garb.
The loves of earth more tender seem, more dear,
Because the heart wells up with love divine,
And feels a rapture that no slight can chill.
O life that satisfies! O life that feeds
The yearning hunger of the famished soul!