THE LAST PROBLEM.
Why call the friend thou lovedst back to earth.
Where there is disappointment, care, and sorrow,
The which he has escaped:
And in so doing hath not a to-morrow?
I look on life as one long, long day
Of work; and when the evening-time draws near,
We leave our toil, and lay
Down to our rest, without a thought of fear.
None knoweth if he may again awake
From his night’s rest, or where at last he sleepeth,
None know the secret
Which Death, with finger on cold lip, close keepeth.
Many have guessed, and told us they had seen
Behind the curtain. – But we do not know
Whether there be
A height of heights above, or depths below.
Perhaps there is a home beyond the stars,
Where all, the children of one Father, shall at last,
Their wanderings o’er,
Be gathered in, all doubtings overpast.
Let us, while here, live out a noble life,
And ever follow Right because ‘tis right!
Not because it is written
That doing so we shall be crown’d with Light.
And, if in grander worlds we go to dwell,
It will not there be counted to our scorning,
That we our best had done;
But we shall still progress, in everlasting morning!