THE PILGRIM.
9
Then like the tender flower
Be ye, oh, weary man!
In countless ways God blesseth you,—
Deny it if you can.
You've love to cheer your heart,
You've strength, and gracious health;
For these full many a lordly peer
Would gladly yield his wealth.
Be ye, oh, weary man!
In countless ways God blesseth you,—
Deny it if you can.
You've love to cheer your heart,
You've strength, and gracious health;
For these full many a lordly peer
Would gladly yield his wealth.
Never despair! it kills the life,
And digs an early grave;
The man who rails so much at Fate
But makes himself her slave.
Up! rouse ye to the work!
Resolve to victory gain;
And hopes shall rise, and bear rich fruit,
Which long in dust have lain.
And digs an early grave;
The man who rails so much at Fate
But makes himself her slave.
Up! rouse ye to the work!
Resolve to victory gain;
And hopes shall rise, and bear rich fruit,
Which long in dust have lain.
THE PILGRIM.
Jerusalem! ah, can it be
Mine eyes behold thy towers?
The slanting sunlight pours on thee
Its' floods of crimson flowers;
Thy heights rise up, dim, weird, and grim,
Against the blood-red sky:
Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
In holy awe I cry.
Mine eyes behold thy towers?
The slanting sunlight pours on thee
Its' floods of crimson flowers;
Thy heights rise up, dim, weird, and grim,
Against the blood-red sky:
Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
In holy awe I cry.
