What shall it profit us if we,
Whose hopes and longings are immortal,
Gather each fragile flower we see,
To wither at the future's portal?
Whose hopes and longings are immortal,
Gather each fragile flower we see,
To wither at the future's portal?
Did the great Source of Life intend,
That death should end its noblest striving?
No; dust to dust is not the end,
But life to life the end of living.
That death should end its noblest striving?
No; dust to dust is not the end,
But life to life the end of living.
The best success of time to make,
Should be our lives' supreme endeavor;
And teach these jarring chords to wake
The prelude of the vast forever.
Should be our lives' supreme endeavor;
And teach these jarring chords to wake
The prelude of the vast forever.
Listen, oh myriads of mankind!
The eternal anthem rolls before us;
Soon will Time's prelude die behind,
Drowned in the still increasing chorus.
The eternal anthem rolls before us;
Soon will Time's prelude die behind,
Drowned in the still increasing chorus.
Height unto height the notes ascend,
Glory to glory ever weaving;
Dust unto dust is not the end,
But life to life the end of living.
Glory to glory ever weaving;
Dust unto dust is not the end,
But life to life the end of living.
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