How swift the mile-posts come and go!
How fast is forged the "silver chain"!
As rivers to the ocean flow,
And come not back for ay again,
So run the years, a ceaseless tide,—
Time's mystic, troubled river,—
That floweth to the ocean wide,
And returneth not forever.
God doth in mercy from me hide
The good or ill of coming years;
Still in His wisdom I confide,
And trust His love through smiles or tears.
Sometime I'll reach the utmost post;
Somewhere will end the rugged way;
Sometime—and that not long, at most—
Will come the dawning of the day.
I'd veil the dead past out of sight,
And clad in truth's tried armor strong,
I'll stand up on the side of right,
When all the world's in league with wrong;
Content to act the humbler part,
Content to walk the lowly way,
If I may cheer the saddened heart,
Or drive its cloud of grief away.
Touched by the cries of kindred grief,
My heart and life I pledge this day,
To seek to minister relief
To stricken comrades by the way.
In knowledge I'm a child as yet;
My simple faith may cross the creeds;
But God forbid that I forget
That bliss is born of Christly deeds.
