Classic Poem

Had I my way not that way would I die.
How the poor soul must shrink, snatched suddenly
From out its common pathway, sun and shade,
Into His presence, blinded by the glare
Of so great glory!
Rather would I know
And see the end far off, as one who stands
Upon a high ship's prow sees from afar
The lights of home, and lets his errant thoughts
Go wandering on adown the sinuous path,
The ever-shortening, sinuous path of light,
That streams from them to him along the waves.
He thinks no more of tempests that are past,
Forgets the raging bar he yet must cross,
Sees only the bright welcome waiting him:
The smiles, the festive joy, the happy tears.
Thus, drawing near to my eternal home,
I would compose my mind, and send it forth
Along the shortening pathway of my days,
Till all my doubts, my fears, were merged, were lost
In the fair vision of the welcoming Christ;
And I should wait Death's kiss with joy and peace.
Then, at the last—be it my lot to lie,
Not girded by four walls, or hemmed about
By beauty-blotting handiwork of man;
But in some forest shade beside the sea,
Or where the mellow wind among the pines
Sings the wild sweetness of our northern lakes
To souls that listen on their magic isles.
Here the bright day glides tranquil to its close.
I hear the kindly voices that I love,
The water washing on the lonely crags,
The evening call of loon and whip-poor-will.
I feel the cool breath of God's holy night
Breathed round me, on my hand the hand of one
Best loved of all I leave behind. I see—
O Heaven, pity those who cannot see!—
Glory on glory—glory on that face
So near, so dear; gold glory on the wave,
Purple, and gold, and darting tongues of flame;
Calm glory on the cloud-piled dome of heaven;
Glory of fire on the great sun's face.
So slips my soul, scarce heeding of the change,
From glory unto glory: Heaven breaks—
Eternal glory on the face of God!