Classic Poem

O WHY art thou disquieted, my soul?
And why do human sufferings dim these eyes?
Is not yon azure heaven thy destin'd goal,
And thy sweet home of welcome in the skies?
Faint not upon thy weary path. — Arise!
Gird on thy might of wisdom's pure control;
And in thy bosom hush all earthly sighs,
And check the tears that down thy wan cheek roll.
The Father of thy spirit guards its fate;
And the blest spark but for a time did fold
In the low mansion of a mortal mould,
Allied to angels in its native state!
Then faint not, O my soul, on thy dark way;
The light is round thee of eternal day.

O WHY art thou disquieted, my soul?
And why do human sufferings dim these eyes?
Is not yon azure heaven thy destin'd goal,
And thy sweet home of welcome in the skies?
Faint not upon thy weary path. — Arise!
Gird on thy might of wisdom's pure control;
And in thy bosom hush all earthly sighs,
And check the tears that down thy wan cheek roll.
The Father of thy spirit guards its fate;
And the blest spark but for a time did fold
In the low mansion of a mortal mould,
Allied to angels in its native state!
Then faint not, O my soul, on thy dark way;
The light is round thee of eternal day.