Classic Poem

Restore to me the freshness of my youth,
And give me back my soul's keen edge again,
That time has blunted! O, my early truth,—
Shall I not you regain?
Ah, mine has been a wasted life at best,
All unreality and long unrest;
Yes, I have lived in vain!

But now no more in vain;—my soul, awake,
Shake off the snare, untwist the fastening chain:
Arise, go forth, the selfish slumber break,
Thy idle dreams restrain!
Still half thy life before thee lies untrod,
Live for the endless living, live for God!—
I must not live in vain!

My God! the way is rough and sad the night,
And my soul faints and breathes this weeping strain,
And the world hates me with its bitterest spite,—
For I have left its train,
With thee and with thy saints to cast my lot:
Ah, my dear Lord, let me not be forgot,
Let me not live in vain!

Can we not part in silence, since for ever,
This world and I? From scorn and taunt refrain?
Must it still hate and wound? still stir the fever
Of this poor throbbing brain?
Ah, yes, it must be so, my God, my God;
'Tis the true discipline, the needed rod,
Else I should live in vain!

The foe is strong,—his venomed rage I dread,
Yet, O my God, do thou his wrath restrain;
Shield me in battle, soothe my aching head
In the sharp hour of pain:
But more than this, oh give me toiling faith,
Large-hearted love, and zeal unto the death:
Let me not live in vain.

Restore to me the freshness of my youth,
And give me back my soul's keen edge again:
Ah, let my spring return! bright hope and truth
Shall I not you regain?
No wasted life, my God, shall mine now be,
Hours, days, and years filled up with toil for thee:
I shall not live in vain!