And the voice of the dying I seem to hear But whether his breathing is in mine ear, Or the sounds of the breaking billows roll The lingering accents upon my soul, I know not; but thus they seem to bear Reproof to my soul for its faint despair:-- Blame not life, it is scarce begun; Blame not mankind, thyself art one. And change is holy, oh! blame it never; Thy soul shall live by its changing ever; Not the bubbling change of a stagnant pool, But the change of a river, flowing and full; Where all that is noble and good will grow Mightier still as the full tides flow; Till it joins the hidden, the boundless sea, Rolling through depths of Eternity. Blame not thy thought that it cannot reach That which the Infinite must teach; Bless thy God that the Word came nigh To guide thee home to thy native sky, Where all things are homely and glorious too, And the children are wondering, and glad, and true. And he pointed away to an Eastern star, That gleamed through his robes o'er the ocean afar; And I knew that a star had looked o'er the rim Of my world that lay all dreary and dim; And was slowly dissolving the darkness deep Which, like evil nurse, had soothed me to sleep; And rising higher, and shining clearer, Would draw the day-spring ever nearer, Till the sunshine of God burst full on the morn, And every hill and valley would start With the joy of light and new gratitude born To Him who had led me home to His heart; And all things that lived in my world within With the gladness of tears to His feet come in; And the false Self be banished with fiends to dwell In the gloomiest haunts of his native hell; And Pride, that ruled like a god above, Be trod 'neath the feet of triumphant Love. And again he pointed across the sea, And another vision arose in me: And I knew I walked an ocean of fear, Yet of safety too, for the Master was near; And every wave of sorrow or dread, O'er which strong faith should upraise my head, Would show from the height of its troubled crest Still nearer and nearer the Land of Rest. And when the storm-spray on the wind should arise, And with tears unbidden should blind mine eyes, And hide from my vision the Home of Love, I knew I must look to the star above, And the mists of Passion would quickly flee, And the storm would faint to serenity. And again it seemed as if words found scope, The sorrowing words of a farewell Hope: "I will meet thee again in that deathless land, Whenever thy foot shall imprint the strand; And the loveliest things that have here been mine, Shall there in eternal beauty shine; For there I shall live and never die, Part of a glorious Eternity; For the death of Time is _To be forgot,_ And I go where oblivion entereth not."