[A very aged man in an almshouse was asked what he was doing now. He replied, “Only waiting.”] ONLY waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown, Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day’s last beam is flown; Till the night of earth is faded From the heart, once full of day; Till the stars of heaven are breaking Through the twilight soft and gray. Only waiting till the reapers Have the last sheaf gathered home, For the summer time is faded, And the autumn winds have come. Quickly, reapers! gather quickly The last ripe hours of my heart, For the bloom of life is withered, And I hasten to depart. Only waiting till the angels Open wide the mystic gate, At whose feet I long have lingered, Weary, poor, and desolate. Even now I hear the footsteps, And their voices far away; If they call me, I am waiting, Only waiting to obey. Only waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown, Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day’s last beam is flown. Then from out the gathered darkness, Holy, deathless stars shall rise, By whose light my soul shall gladly Tread its pathway to the skies.
Only Waiting
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[A very aged man in an almshouse was asked what he was doing now. He replied, “Only waiting.”] ONLY waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown, Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day’s last beam is flown; Till the night of earth is faded From the heart, once full of day; Till...
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as one by one the singers of our land, Summoned away by Death’s unfailing dart, Unto the greater mystery depart, Sadly we watch them from the desolate strand, Oh! who shall fill their places in the band Of tuneful voices? Who with equal art Speak the unwritten language of the heart,...
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I among the thousand, thousand spheres that roll, Wheel within wheel, through never-ending space, A mighty and interminable race, Yet held by some invisible control, And led as to a sure and shining goal, One star alone, with still, unchanging face, Looks out from her perpetual dwelling-place,...