FUTURITY
Are we left in Time's mists to grope;—
To make a path where there is none?
I'st true that we are led by Hope
Or urged by ghastly Dread, alone?
And, as we backward turn our gaze,
See but one bulk of density;
Feel but the clammy touch of Death
Who us pursues? Nor see we trace
Of any former trodden path;
Or any future halting place,—
Is there no Guide for you and me?
To make a path where there is none?
I'st true that we are led by Hope
Or urged by ghastly Dread, alone?
And, as we backward turn our gaze,
See but one bulk of density;
Feel but the clammy touch of Death
Who us pursues? Nor see we trace
Of any former trodden path;
Or any future halting place,—
Is there no Guide for you and me?
Are all our tracks, at once erased,
As we thus onward wend our way;
Or ever yet our feet are placed
Upon another hidden day?
Is there naught on this earth to prove
That there is One who walks beside,
With Whom to hold communion;
Whose feet, before, this way have tried
And unto yonder Heaven, won—
Is there no certainty of Love?
As we thus onward wend our way;
Or ever yet our feet are placed
Upon another hidden day?
Is there naught on this earth to prove
That there is One who walks beside,
With Whom to hold communion;
Whose feet, before, this way have tried
And unto yonder Heaven, won—
Is there no certainty of Love?
Aye, to the tomb and far beyond
Faith may a blood-marked pathway see!
Faith never calls without respond
Into that dim futurity!
For to her ears a loving Voice
Cries out: "I am the living Way!"
She hears despite all Earthly noise,
And, following, finds endless Day!
Faith may a blood-marked pathway see!
Faith never calls without respond
Into that dim futurity!
For to her ears a loving Voice
Cries out: "I am the living Way!"
She hears despite all Earthly noise,
And, following, finds endless Day!
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