Classic Poem

The History that thou hast never known,
That is not on the record lying book;
But by the light thou givest only shown,
Canst thou on this, the truest page yet look?
Then mayst thou leave all others; this the leaf,
The healing leaf from off the tree of Life;
It is not numbered by Time's cyphers brief,
It higher dates than counts thy mortal strife;
Its pages are the Scriptures; never read
Till closed the eye that dust-soiled letters pores,
And he who saw's forgotten with the dead;
Then opes The Book Divine its heavenly stores,
Its times man's living eras; still the same
While burns within of God the sun-lit flame.