Sun in my lattice, and sun on the sea (Oh, but the sun is fair), And a sky of blue and a sea of green, And a ship with a white, white sail between, And a light wind blowing free-- And back from the stern, and forth from the land, The last farewell of a waving hand. Mist on the window and mist on the sea (Oh, but the mist is gray), And the weird, tall shape of a spectral mast Gleams out of the fog like a ghost of my past, And the old hope stirs in me-- The old, old hope that warred with doubt, While the years with the tides surged in and out. Rain on my window and rain on the sea (Oh, but the rain is sad), And only the dreams of a vanished barque And a vanished youth shine through the dark, And torture the night and me. But somewhere, I think, near some fair strand, That lost ship lies with its waving hand. LIFE’S JOURNEY. As we speed out of youth’s sunny station, The track seems to shine in the light, But it suddenly shoots over chasms Or sinks into tunnels of night. And the hearts that were brave in the morning Are filled with repining and fears, As they pause at the City of Sorrow Or pass through the Valley of Tears. But the road of this perilous journey The hand of the Master has made; With all its discomforts and dangers, We need not be sad or afraid. Paths leading from light into darkness, Ways plunging from gloom to despair, Wind out through the tunnels of midnight To fields that are blooming and fair. Though the rocks and the shadows surround us. Though we catch not one gleam of the day, Above us fair cities are laughing, And dipping white feet in some bay. And always, eternal, forever, Down over the hills in the west, The last final end of our journey, There lies the Great Station of Rest. ’Tis the Grand Central point of all railways, All roads unite here when they end; ’Tis the final resort of all tourists, All rival lines meet here and blend. All tickets, all mile-books, all passes, If stolen or begged for or bought, On whatever road or division, Will bring you at last to this spot. If you pause at the City of Trouble, Or wait in the Valley of Tears, Be patient, the train will move onward, And rush down the track of the years. Whatever the place is you seek for, Whatever your game or your quest, You shall come at the last with rejoicing, To the beautiful City of Rest.