This life is but the passage of a day, This life is but a pang and all is over; But in the life to come which fades not away Every love shall abide and every lover. He who wore out pleasure and mastered all lore, Solomon, wrote "Vanity of vanities:" Down to death, of all that went before In his mighty long life, the record is this. With loves by the hundred, wealth beyond measure, Is this he who wrote "Vanity of vanities"? Yea, "Vanity of vanities" he saith of pleasure, And of all he learned set his seal to this. Yet we love and faint not, for our love is one, And we hope and flag not, for our hope is sure, Although there be nothing new beneath the sun And no help for life and for death no cure. The road to death is life, the gate of life is death, We who wake shall sleep, we shall wax who wane; Let us not vex our souls for stoppage of a breath, The fall of a river that turneth not again. Be the road short, and be the gate near,-- Shall a short road tire, a strait gate appall? The loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear, And Paradise hath room for you and me and all. "WHEN MY HEART IS VEXED, I WILL COMPLAIN." "O Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me? Me whom thou settest in a barren land, Hungry and thirsty on the burning sand, Hungry and thirsty where no waters be Nor shadows of date-bearing tree:-- O Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me?" "I came from Edom by as parched a track, As rough a track beneath My bleeding feet. I came from Edom seeking thee, and sweet I counted bitterness; I turned not back But counted life as death, and trod The winepress all alone: and I am God." "Yet, Lord, how canst Thou say Thou lovest me? For Thou art strong to comfort: and could I But comfort one I love, who, like to die, Lifts feeble hands and eyes that fail to see In one last prayer for comfort--nay, I could not stand aside or turn away." "Alas! thou knowest that for thee I died For thee I thirsted with the dying thirst; I, Blessed, for thy sake was counted cursed, In sight of men and angels crucified: All this and more I bore to prove My love, and wilt thou yet mistrust My love?" "Lord, I am fain to think Thou lovest me, For Thou art all in all and I am Thine; And lo! Thy love is better than new wine, And I am sick of love in loving Thee. But dost Thou love me? speak and save, For jealousy is cruel as the grave." "Nay, if thy love is not an empty breath My love is as thine own--deep answers deep. Peace, peace: I give to my beloved sleep, Not death but sleep, for love is strong as death: Take patience; sweet thy sleep shall be, Yea, thou shalt wake in Paradise with Me." AFTER COMMUNION.