A Psalm of =
Life (by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
Tell me not, =
in mournful numbers,
Life is but an =
empty dream!
For the soul =
is dead that slumbers,
And things are =
not what they seem.
Life is real! =
Life is earnest!
And the grave =
is not its goal;
Dust thou art, =
to dust returnest,
Was not spoken =
of the soul.
Not enjoyment, =
and not sorrow,
Is our =
destined end or way;
But to act, =
that each to-morrow
Find us =
farther than to-day.
Art is long, =
and Time is fleeting,
And our =
hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like =
muffled drums, are beating
Funeral =
marches to the grave.
In the =
world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac =
of Life,
Be not like =
dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in =
the strife!
Trust no =
Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead =
Past bury its dead!
Act,— =
act in the living Present!
Heart within, =
and God o’erhead!
Lives of great =
men all remind us
We can make =
our lives sublime,
And, =
departing, leave behind us
Footprints on =
the sands of time;
Footprints, =
that perhaps another,
Sailing =
o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and =
shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall =
take heart again.
Let us, then, =
be up and doing,
With a heart =
for any fate;
Still =
achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor =
and to wait.
~~
Dr Bob Griffin =
[email protected] =
www.grif.net =
"Jesus =
Knows Me, This I =
Love!"