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THE MESSENGER.
Shall I be waiting for some wished-for wealth,
Impatient, by the shore of a purple sea?
But when the vessel's keel grates on the sand,
Will he lean down its side and call to me?
Impatient, by the shore of a purple sea?
But when the vessel's keel grates on the sand,
Will he lean down its side and call to me?
Shall I in thymy pastures cool and sweet
See the lark soaring through the rosy air?
Ah, then, will his dark face look down on me,
'Neath the white splendor of the morning star!
See the lark soaring through the rosy air?
Ah, then, will his dark face look down on me,
'Neath the white splendor of the morning star!
Shall I be resting from the noonday blaze.
In the rich summer of a blossoming land,
And idly glancing through the lotus leaves,
Behold the shadow of his beckoning hand?
In the rich summer of a blossoming land,
And idly glancing through the lotus leaves,
Behold the shadow of his beckoning hand?
Or in some inland village, shaded deep,
With silence brooding o'er the quiet place,
Shall I look from some lattice crowned with flowers,
In the calm twilight and behold his face?
With silence brooding o'er the quiet place,
Shall I look from some lattice crowned with flowers,
In the calm twilight and behold his face?
Or shall I over such a lonely way,
Beset with fears, my weary footsteps wend,
So desolate, that I shall greet his face
With joy as a desired and welcome friend?
Beset with fears, my weary footsteps wend,
So desolate, that I shall greet his face
With joy as a desired and welcome friend?
Oh, little matters it when we shall meet,
Upon the quiet shore, or on the sea,
If he shall lead us to the golden gate,
Dear Lord, if he shall lead us unto Thee.
Upon the quiet shore, or on the sea,
If he shall lead us to the golden gate,
Dear Lord, if he shall lead us unto Thee.
