Classic Poem

Not so quickly, fretted spirit,
Lest thy speed but run to waste:
He is stedfast who believeth,
He who trusteth makes no haste
For the God on whom we call
Will carry us through all;
No plan of His can fail,
Not a wish but must prevail.
He is mighty, He alone;
Let His work be calmly done.
Not so slowly, sluggish spirit,
As if God and time would stay
For thee, the loitering dreamer,
Flinging hours and days away.
Up and toil with all thy might,
Noon is fading into night;
Like the ever-moving wave,
We are rushing to the grave;
Like the swiftly rising dew,
Earth is passing from our view.

Not so gaily, buoyant spirit;
Temper mirth with gentle fear;
Roses wither, leaves are falling,
'Tis not always summer here.
'Tis a brittle, hollow world,
With its brav'ry all unfurled,
Its banners streaming high,
And shouts of revelry.
Its day is coming fast,
And its madness cannot last.
Not so darkly, gloomy spirit;
Here are things of sprightlier hue.
Here are suns, and stars, and rainbows,
And a glorious arch of blue.
Earth is not all tears and woe,
There are bright things here below
There is verdure on our hills,
There is music in our rills,
There is fragrance in our air;
In our homes the dear and fair.

Not so lightly, jesting spirit;
Do not trifle so with sin;
The gate of life is narrow,
There are few who enter in.
Setting God before thine eyes,
Be boldly good and wise;
Cherish grave and manly thought,
Buy the truth and sell it not;
To thyself and truth be true,
To thy friend be faithful too.
Not so sternly, haughty spirit;
Lay thy loftiness aside;
From thy forehead smooth the furrow,
From thy heart pluck out the pride.
Deal gentle words to all;
Thou, too, mayest err and fall;
Be pitiful and kind,
Leave rugged words behind,
Learn meekly to reprove;
They win who speak in love.

Not so fondly, sanguine spirit;
There is judgment in you cloud,
There is peril in yon tempest,
And the trumpet speaks aloud.
God is coming in His wrath,
And the lightning ploughs his path;
There is terror on the earth,
And the run rushes forth;
There is boding in yon sky,
The Judge is drawing nigh.
Not so hopeless, drooping spirit;
Yon clouds at length will rise;
And, beyond them, in the distance,
Spreads a realm of sunny skies.
God's promise standeth fast,
And the glory breaks at last;
Peace is rising out of strife,
Death is dying into life;
Up springs the eternal sun;
Heaven and earth will soon be one.