Classic Poem

Now the ills of earth surround us;
Oft the storm-clouds hide the sun;
But, though dark the night around us,
Day is breaking farther on:
Farther onward,
All the mists and clouds are gone.

Here the thorns with flowers are growing,
Rough and weary is our path;
Gentle waters seldom flowing
In the desert ways of earth:
Farther onward,
Sweet, immortal springs have birth.

Blossoms in our pathway springing,
Fade, alas! too soon away;
Warblers, love's sweet chorus singing,
Seek their rest ere close of day:
Farther onward,
Flowers shall never know decay.

Farther on, the voice whose sweetness
Cheered us ere it silent grew,
Tuned to more than seraph meetness,
Sings those songs the angels know:
Father onward,
We shall join the chorus too.

As we to our rest draw nearer,
We shall pass through shady bowers,
And our feet, 'neath skies grown clearer,
Press the fragrance from the flowers:
Farther onward,
Strewing smoother paths than ours.

We will leave our Leader never;
But we'll calmly onward press,
Till we dwell with him forever,
'Mid supernal blessedness:
Farther onward,
With the saints his name to bless.

Yet, till we, on high appearing,
With the sin freed hosts abide,
Welcome is each promise cheering,
Telling us how deep and wide,
Farther onward,
Flows salvation's blissful tide.