Classic Poem

Bring the volume best and eldest;
Read that record, so sublime,
Of the man with wondrous patience,
Hero on the field of Time.

Read each grand, each noble sentence,
Touched by true poetic fire;
He who would imbibe its spirit
Hath upon his banner, " Higher.

When the storm-clouds thickly gather
O'er thy thorny, pilgrim way,
Trust, like Job, till gleam the rainbows,
Till the night is turned to day.

Trust that Friend, the best, the truest,
Who will never leave thy side,
If in storms or in the sunshine
Thou in patience wilt abide.

Dark sometimes must be our pathway,
Clouds will gather overhead,
And our fondly loved and cherished
Oft be numbered with the dead.

But in God the Christian trusting
Can the song of triumph sing.
O'er him hath the grave no victory,
Death for him can have no sting.

Wrap the mantle, then, of patience,
Round thy spirit, suffering one:
Perfect through thine earthly sorrow,
Christ shall claim thee as his own.

Calmly on thy Saviour leaning,
Through the tearful valley go,
Soon the mount of bliss ascending,
Losing thought of earthly woe.