  O soul, with storms beset! Thy griefs and cares forget. Why dread earth's transient woe, When soon thy body in the grave unseen Shall be laid low, And all will be forgotten then, as though It had not been? Wherefore, my soul, be still! Adore God's holy will, Fear death's supreme decree. Thus mayst thou save thyself, and win high aid To profit thee, When thou, returning to thy Lord, shalt see Thy deeds repaid. Why muse, O troubled soul, O'er life's poor earthly goal? [pg 379]When thou hast fled, the clay Lies mute, nor bear'st thou aught of wealth, or might With thee that day, But, like a bird, unto thy nest away, Thou wilt take flight. Why for a land lament In which a lifetime spent Is as a hurried breath? Where splendor turns to gloom, and honors show A faded wreath, Where health and healing soon must sink beneath The fatal bow? What seemeth good and fair Is often falsehood there. Gold melts like shifting sands, Thy hoarded riches pass to other men And strangers' hands, And what will all thy treasured wealth and lands Avail thee then? Life is a vine, whose crown The reaper Death cuts down. His ever-watchful eyes Mark every step until night's shadows fall, And swiftly flies The passing day, and ah! how distant lies The goal of all. Therefore, rebellious soul, Thy base desires control; With scantly given bread Content thyself, nor let thy memory stray To splendors fled, But call to mind affliction's weight, and dread The judgment-day. Prostrate and humbled go, Like to the dove laid low, [pg 380]Remember evermore The peace of heaven, the Lord's eternal rest. When burdened sore With sorrow's load, at every step implore His succor blest. Before God's mercy-seat His pardoning love entreat. Make pure thy thoughts from sin, Solomon Ibn Gebirol. |
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