Poems (Hoffman)/Looking Beyond (Today the glorious King of Day is smiling)
For works with similar titles, see Looking Beyond.
LOOKING BEYOND
Today the glorious King of Day is smilingUpon the hills and fields he looks upon,But somehow from the glory of the sunshine There is a something gone.
What is it? The soft air is warm and pleasantThe shrubs and trees fresh robes of verdure wearAnd yet a feeling not exactly sadness Pervades the air.
Some sweet notes from the ivory keys come to me,They echo through my being, faint and low,But why it is they lack the power to soothe me I do not know.
'Tis strange, but sometimes how life's prospects thrill us,How cherished plans gleam with a new delight;We sleep and wake to find Hope's starry splendor Has taken flight.
Our plans are dim, their glory has departed.And yet we cannot find the words to tellOf the strange brightness, or the shadowy dimness, That these loved dreams befell.
We only know what seemed of vast importance,And, filled with hope our pilgrimage on earth,Has dwindled down to-day without a reason To small and trifling worth;
Sometimes these seem enough to make us happy,And sure success in these is all we claim;And then again we can but vaguely murmur: "O for a higher aim!"
A higher aim, an object that is lasting,A height we cannot reach,A treasure that is of intrinsic value, A thought too deep for speech.
Be still, oh fluttering Spirit, ever strivingLike some imprisoned bird to leave its cage,Yet in a higher flight a nobler calling Thou shalt engage!
When the great sun has smiled a few more morningsUpon these transient longings and desires,There shall be kindled in thy inmost being Quenchless celestial fires.
Be still, what seemeth little may seem greaterWhen we shall view with clearer vision all,When looking back upon these little strivings They may not seem so small;
And yet we dread to leave our work unfinished,We cannot give our petty prospects upAnd should we have to leave them we might murmur At this our bitter cup.
We might deem all our usefulness as endedAnd mourn to leave our greatest work undone,When if our lives have been what we should make them Our work is just begun.
Had we but faith to grasp the dim hereafterWith strong unwavering hands,Methinks we could give up without a murmur These little earthly plans;
But do we give them up? If true and righteous,If with the principles of love instilledMethinks in that great limitless hereafter They yet shall be fulfilled.
When the dark angel, Death, shall bid us slumberI do not think these living souls shall sleepBut in the rapture of a perfect freedom The thought and memory of the present keep.
And more and more to grow in life and vigorAs years that end not, roll o'er broader fields,Defying time or death or endless ages To stop their chariot wheels.
Beyond, oh word, oh promise for the future!Oh star of this dark night!Though cherished hopes lose all their power to charm us, Beyond, it still is light.
And though with every golden clasp forgotten,With jewels dropping from each broken bond,These cherished plans sink down to naught before us, We still can look beyond.