Classic Poem

Bethink thee well, poor soul of mine,
But some few years ago
There was of thee no single sign
Upon this earth below.

The busy world, as now, pursued
Through good and ill its way;
Nature her silent task renew'd
Then also as to-day:

Ages had sped their ceaseless flight;
New empires had grown old;
Earth's mountain-tops were hoary white
With centuries untold:

Millions had heard the dread decree
Of their eternal doom:
But where was I? — what news of me
In all that time had come?

Ah, buried in the depths beneath
Of emptiness profound;
All blank to me was life or death,
Or nature's varied round.

No germ of being then had I,
Save in th' eternal Mind
Of Him, who from eternity
All being has design'd.

On His divinely chosen day
I came on earth below;
At His command, whom all obey,
I forth again must go.

O thought, in mercy sent at times
To every human breast,
To stay the wicked in their crimes,
To stimulate the best!

O solemn thought, so full of grace,
So little duly priz'd,
So often by our thoughtless race
Forgotten or despis'd!

Whatever task my heart engage,
Be Thou with me, I pray;
In grief, in joy, in youth, in age,
To-morrow as to-day.