Classic Poem

I am still rich.
The morning comes with old-time cheer;
The sun breaks through the blurring mist;
And all the sorrows of the night
By newborn rays of hope are kissed.
Up and rejoice! a spirit cries,
What is your loss, with morning skies!

I am still rich.
My friends are faithful, as of old;
They trust me past my poor desert.
They ask no gift of golden gain,
But only love. With their strength girt,
Can I not face the road ahead—
Though some old treasured joys are dead!

I am still rich.
I have my work, which constant calls;
I could not loiter, if I would;
Each moment has some task to speed,
Some work to do. How kind, how good
Is life that God now grants to me—
A segment of Eternity!

I am still rich.
The morning comes with old-time cheer;
The sun breaks through the blurring mist;
And all the sorrows of the night
By newborn rays of hope are kissed.
Up and rejoice! a spirit cries,
What is your loss, with morning skies!

I am still rich.
My friends are faithful, as of old;
They trust me past my poor desert.
They ask no gift of golden gain,
But only love. With their strength girt,
Can I not face the road ahead—
Though some old treasured joys are dead!

I am still rich.
I have my work, which constant calls;
I could not loiter, if I would;
Each moment has some task to speed,
Some work to do. How kind, how good
Is life that God now grants to me—
A segment of Eternity!