Poems (Curwen)/Whither goest thou

by Annie Isabel Curwen

Whither goest Thou?

Brother, whither goest thou?
 Whither do thy footsteps tend?
Ask thy soul this question now—
 Whither will my wanderings end?
Voices of the lost reply,
 Wailing in united breath,
"In the vale of misery,
 At the gates of death."

Brother! put the glass aside,
 Hear me! for the love of Christ,
And those whom thou hast sorely tried;
 What hast thou not sacrificed?
Reckon now with Drink thine host.
 What has self-indulgence cost?
All man loves and prizes most—
 Home, health, reputation—lost.

Brother, wilt thou further go
 On this downward path of sorrow,
Sowing seeds from whence will grow
 Thorns to pierce thy heart to-morrow;
Forging fetters to enchain
 Thy foolish soul for evermore
To grim remorse, and deathless pain,
 On Hades unseen shore.

Brother! listen, not to me,
 But the voice that speaks within me,
A voice that bids me plead with thee,
 Urging me to try and win thee
Back from Ruin's dread abyss,
 O'er which thy feet will surely fall,
If thou turn deaf ears to this—
 The Spirit's final call.

Brother! say not "'tis too late"—
 "All things are possible to Me,"
God says. And at His golden gate
 Mercy stands beckoning to thee.
Arise! while thou hast strength to climb,
 Lift up thine eyes, there's help above;
And thou may'st yet win back in time,
 Lost fame, lost hope, lost home and love.