I have wrestled stoutly with the Wrong, And borne the Right From beneath the footfall of the throng To life and light. "Wherever Freedom shivered a chain, God speed, quoth I; To Error amidst her shouting train I gave the lie." Ah, soul of mine! ah, soul of mine! Thy deeds are well: Were they wrought for Truth's sake or for thine? My soul, pray tell. "Of all the work my hand hath wrought Beneath the sky, Save a place in kindly human thought, No gain have I." Go to, go to! for thy very self Thy deeds were done Thou for fame, the miser for pelf, Your end is one! And where art thou going, soul of mine? Canst see the end? And whither this troubled life of thine Evermore doth tend? What daunts thee now? what shakes thee so? My sad soul say. "I see a cloud like a curtain low Hang o'er my way. "Whither I go I cannot tell That cloud hangs black, High as the heaven and deep as hell Across my track. "I see its shadow coldly enwrap The souls before. Sadly they enter it, step by step, To return no more. "They shrink, they shudder, dear God! they kneel To Thee in prayer. They shut their eyes on the cloud, but feel That it still is there. "In vain they turn from the dread Before To the Known and Gone; For while gazing behind them evermore Their feet glide on. "Yet, at times, I see upon sweet pale faces A light begin To tremble, as if from holy places And shrines within. "And at times methinks their cold lips move With hymn and prayer, As if somewhat of awe, but more of love And hope were there. "I call on the souls who have left the light To reveal their lot; I bend mine ear to that wall of night, And they answer not. "But I hear around me sighs of pain And the cry of fear, And a sound like the slow sad dropping of rain, Each drop a tear! "Ah, the cloud is dark, and day by day I am moving thither I must pass beneath it on my way-- God pity me!--whither?" Ah, soul of mine! so brave and wise In the life-storm loud, Fronting so calmly all human eyes In the sunlit crowd! Now standing apart with God and me Thou art weakness all, Gazing vainly after the things to be Through Death's dread wall. But never for this, never for this Was thy being lent; For the craven's fear is but selfishness, Like his merriment. Folly and Fear are sisters twain One closing her eyes. The other peopling the dark inane With spectral lies. Know well, my soul, God's hand controls Whate'er thou fearest; Round Him in calmest music rolls Whate'er thou Nearest. What to thee is shadow, to Him is day, And the end He knoweth, And not on a blind and aimless way The spirit goeth. Man sees no future,--a phantom show Is alone before him; Past Time is dead, and the grasses grow, And flowers bloom o'er him. Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of Faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The rock beneath. The Present, the Present is all thou hast For thy sure possessing; Like the patriarch's angel hold it fast Till it gives its blessing.