  To the soul that is gifted with seeing The secrets and sources of being, A mystical meaning appears For the hearts that in silence are broken, For the words of affection unspoken, For sorrow, bereavement, and tears. There are souls that with genius are gifted, On crosses of sorrow uplifted, Who find their salvation through pain; There are deeds of the brave unrecorded, And the toil of warm hands unrewarded, Whose loss is an infinite gain. There are spirits who pray that no morrow May dawn on the depths of their sorrow; But the morrow brings patience and peace. And the faithful, who often with weeping Have garnered a blessed increase. There are lives that are matchless in beauty, Through the faithful performance of duty, Whose labors of love are unknown. There are spirits who languish in prison, Whose light on the world has not risen, And yet they are never alone. The poor, the oppressed, and the lowly, The selfish, the weak, and the holy, Have each in life’s drama a part. While the wants and the woes that o’ercame them, With the lives of the righteous who blame them, Are known to the Infinite Heart. O, where is the angel recorder! And where is the watchman and warder, That is charged with the keeping of souls? And what is the mystical meaning, Which the thoughtful in spirit are gleaning From the Force that all Nature controls? O, not where the sun-fires are burning, And not where the planets are turning Shall we seek for the Centre of Being, And learn of the Wisdom All-seeing, Or climb to life’s infinite hight. But deep as love’s fathomless ocean, In a spirit of lowly devotion, Should we patiently strive to ascend; Not reckless, unfeeling, and stoic, But with courage and calmness heroic, Unswerving and true to the end. With shoulders that bow to life’s crosses, With hearts that faint not at their losses, With spirits that triumph o’er pain,— At length to such souls shall be given The peaceful possession of heaven, And the life that is infinite gain. Then, judged by the complex relation Of each to the Soul of Creation, Distinctions of merit must fall. There is good for the Saint and the Sinner, There is gain for the loser or winner, And a just compensation for all. For the Infinite Life is ascending, And all things are with it uptending, Away from all evil and strife. To man is the toil of endeavor, But unto that Being, forever, The peace and perfection of life. |
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