Classic Poem

Through forest-paths we love,
'Mid autumn-colored foliage, to stray;
Yet fallen leaves, which rustle as we move,
There whisper of decay.

Upon the billowy deep
We gladly watch the lovely moonlight sheen, —
A line of silver where the blue waves sleep, —
Till clouds obscure the scene.

With rapture-speaking eye,
We gaze upon each amber-tinted cloud
Which decorates the occidental sky,
Ere night shall earth enshroud.

And gladly oft we tread
The flower-decked garden paths with cherished friend,
Gathering rare blossoms for the queenly head,
Rich fragrance there to spend.

But change comes o'er each scene:
And leaves and flowerets wither and decay.
Some lesson Nature thus would teach, I ween, —
Some warning thus convey.

Hark! from the prophet-page
Which points the path of duty to each soul,
And tells the destiny of fool and sage,
To us the tidings roll.

Like autumn leaves we fade,
Like sunset glory from the gorgeous west,
Like moonlight beauty when night's queen is hid,
Like flowers once gayly drest.

'Tis well! I meekly bow,
O King of kings! to this thy high behest:
Time writes too many wrinkles on my brow
For me to doubt the rest.

I know that I must die.
Like withered leaf by chill autumnal blast,
Swept from the parent-stem, I, too, must lie
Where all shall lie at last.

Though long grass soon may wave
Upon the turf 'neath which my form may rest,
And loving, loved ones weep above my grave,
I welcome thy behest.

Where everlasting Spring
With fadeless blossoms decks the verdant plain,
Where ransomed souls eternal praises sing,
There shall I live again.

We fade; but thanks to Thee,
O Jesus! who hath conquered death and sin,
We only fade to brighten, die to be
Where Death no prize can win.