Life

Our lives seem filled with things of little worth; A thousand petty cares arise each day Which bring our soaring thoughts from heaven to earth, Reminding us that we have feet of clay; Yet we will not from path of duty stray If we amidst them all cleave to the right; Nor great nor small are actions in His sight; Through lowly vale He shows our feet the way. Our early dreams may not be realized; The roseate sky now proves quite commonplace; The constellations we so highly prized Have vanished all—nor left the slightest trace Of former glory in its azure face, But high o'er all beams out the polar star To guide us safe through rock and sandy bar; Life is complete and its cap-stone is grace.