Of swift-wing'd years how rapid is the flight?
For half a hundred, on this day, save three
Have fled since God in his great love to me
Allow'd me to put on the armor bright,
By him supplied to fit me for the fight,
The ceaseless contest for true liberty;――
For truth alone can set the sinner free,
And bring the blind from darkness into light.
Alas, how chang'd the scene? For then were here
Full many a form of loveliness now fled,――
Father and Mother, Brothers, Sisters dear,
And many friends,――all sleeping with the dead.
What were I now, did not God's truth divine
With bright-hued hopes upon my vision shine?