O THAT THE EAGLE'S WING WERE MINE!
139
And what are all the joys of life,
But vanity, and toil, and woe?
What but a bitter cup of grief,
With dregs of sin and death below?
But vanity, and toil, and woe?
What but a bitter cup of grief,
With dregs of sin and death below?
This world is but the first dark gate
Unfolded to the waking soul;
But Death unerring, led by Fate,
Shall heaven's bright portals backward roll
Unfolded to the waking soul;
But Death unerring, led by Fate,
Shall heaven's bright portals backward roll
Then shall this unchained spirit fly
On to the God who gave it life;
Rejoicing as it soars on high,
Released from danger, doubt, and strife.
On to the God who gave it life;
Rejoicing as it soars on high,
Released from danger, doubt, and strife.
There will it pour its anthems forth,
Bending before its Maker's throne,—
The great I Am, who gave it birth,
The Almighty God, the dread Unknown.
Bending before its Maker's throne,—
The great I Am, who gave it birth,
The Almighty God, the dread Unknown.
