THE RIVER OF LIFE.
Like the tide of a mighty river,
The years are running fast,
As they hurry us on to the future,
Like leaves on their current cast.
And that river shall merge in the ocean
Of a mystic eternity;
And the banks are the countless ages
That mark its course to the sea.
God breathes on the dim old forests,
Upon those banks that grow;
And the leaves from the stately branches
Are shed on the stream below.
A few there be on the river,
That whirl and softly glide
By the banks of Ease and Pleasure,
With a smooth and gentle tide.
But many are cast in the shallows
With a heavy lading of woe;
And the waters are bitter with sorrow,
And the tide to the sea runs slow.
Yet some sing blithe on their journey,
Though tossed on an angry wave;
And they conquer the terrors of tempests,
For the hearts of these are brave.
