The work for Him I asked and aimed to do,
Ere death should claim my dust, my spirit free,—
That, looking down from where the wise and true
Inherit glory, gracious eyes might see
A spark I kindled beaming endlessly,
And lighting other wanderers to the goal
Where blends the life that is with life to be;—
Now done, or well or ill, the lettered scroll
Of what is writ on heart and mind I here unroll.