Songs of the Soul/Part 2/The Cup of Eternity
THE CUP OF ETERNITY
The traveler of the endless track
All weary, thirsty, sore doth seek
To quench the quenchless mortal thirst,
The wordless worry of his heart.
All weary, thirsty, sore doth seek
To quench the quenchless mortal thirst,
The wordless worry of his heart.
He spies a cup —a little orb,
He tries to drink with joyful sob,
He stands aback, the cup sets down,—
On the contents scant his heart did frown.
He tries to drink with joyful sob,
He stands aback, the cup sets down,—
On the contents scant his heart did frown.
Yet up he lifts the cup again,
But fears his baneful thirst to flame.
When, hark! a voice of counsel deep
Forbids him this to soil with lip.
But fears his baneful thirst to flame.
When, hark! a voice of counsel deep
Forbids him this to soil with lip.
The cup so small to mortal eye,—
The cup whose depth the wise can spy
Dries up, alas! if mortals drink;
Perennial fount, the soulful think.
Now, in the little cup he’ll see
The unsounded deep of eternity;
For ageless hours and endless days
The ambrosial drink he'll taste and praise.
The cup whose depth the wise can spy
Dries up, alas! if mortals drink;
Perennial fount, the soulful think.
Now, in the little cup he’ll see
The unsounded deep of eternity;
For ageless hours and endless days
The ambrosial drink he'll taste and praise.
The deathly thirst so fleshly born
Ne’er shall parch his soul again;
The cup he’ll drink, but not the bane,
To quench his thirst, and bliss attain.
And vain would mighty north winds try
Compassion’s gathered tears to dry.
Ne’er shall parch his soul again;
The cup he’ll drink, but not the bane,
To quench his thirst, and bliss attain.
And vain would mighty north winds try
Compassion’s gathered tears to dry.