AT THE END
When all the days, and all the years
Are volumedly complete,
And Mem'ry reads with smiles and tears
The record on each sheet,
Will not the tale of what has been
Seem diff'rent at life's close,
Than when poor earth-sight made a screen,
To hide what Death now shows?
Are volumedly complete,
And Mem'ry reads with smiles and tears
The record on each sheet,
Will not the tale of what has been
Seem diff'rent at life's close,
Than when poor earth-sight made a screen,
To hide what Death now shows?
Will Justice not interpret then,
Things once misunderstood,
And prove those things which caused us pain,
Perverted by our mood?
And that the guiding heart was kind,
Though awkward hands lost trace?
Will life not, from all masks behind,
Then lift a holy Face?
Things once misunderstood,
And prove those things which caused us pain,
Perverted by our mood?
And that the guiding heart was kind,
Though awkward hands lost trace?
Will life not, from all masks behind,
Then lift a holy Face?
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