  The Book-of-Time, each page a year, With every word a hope or fear, Thereon impressed in lines of light Would bid us read its truths aright, The Book-of-Time a volume vast, The royal record of a past Wherein a century ’s a day, Before eternity’s broad sway. The Book-of-Time ’tis bound in gold, This mammoth book no man can hold; And angel fingers wield the pen That writeth of the deeds of men. The Book-of-Time transcribed shall lie As open as the fair blue sky; Many a loving heart shall find How wise it was in being kind. |
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