Time! Ocean of boundless unrest!
Upheaving with tumult of life;
While, as foam on the billowy crest,
Floats he who is first in the strife.
First in the van of courage and right,
Or foremost in daring to wrong;
Time bendeth low to the monarch of might,
Embalms him in story and song.
Yet lives there be which the giddy hours
Tinge lightly, as onward they wing;
Rough winds may scatter Hope's fairest flowers,
The dreamer awaketh to sing.
And sweet seraph tones, borne from on high,
Enliven the faltering strain;
Till a golden rift streaks the dark sky,
And sunlight illumines again.
Eternity! prospect sublime!
Blessed Faith holdeth forth unto view,
Where the fleeting illusions of time
Yield place to the lasting and true,
Where the song never dies in a wail,
Nor sun ever sinks into gloom;
Nor bright life in its splendor doth fail
'Fore darkness of death and the tomb.
When the glare and the glitter shall wane
In glow of the chrysolite sea,
For leal hearts that now struggle in vain
Shall the crown of the victor be.
And sorrow-dimmed lives shall relight
With warmth from an heavenly ray;
And flowerets nipped by an early blight
Shall re-bloom through an endless day.