I cannot make it seem a day to dread,
       When from this dear earth I shall journey out
     To that still dearer country of the dead,
       And join the lost ones, so long dreamed about. 
     I love this world, yet shall I love to go
     And meet the friends who wait for me, I know.

     I never stand above a bier and see
       The seal of death set on some well-loved face
     But that I think, “One more to welcome me
       When I shall cross the intervening space
     Between this land and that one ‘over there’;
     One more to make the strange Beyond seem fair.”

     And so for me there is no sting to death,
       And so the grave has lost its victory. 
     It is but crossing—­with a bated breath
       And white, set face—­a little strip of sea
     To find the loved ones waiting on the shore,
     More beautiful, more precious than before.

     [Illustration:]

     THE SADDEST HOUR.

     The saddest hour of anguish and of loss
       Is not that season of supreme despair
       When we can find no least light anywhere
     To gild the dread, black shadow of the Cross;
     Not in that luxury of sorrow when
       We sup on salt of tears, and drink the gall
       Of memories of days beyond recall—­
     Of lost delights that cannot come again.

       But when, with eyes that are no longer wet,
     We look out on the great, wide world of men,
     And, smiling, lean toward a bright to-morrow,
       Then backward shrink, with sudden keen regret,
       To find that we are learning to forget: 
     Ah! then we face the saddest hour of sorrow.

     [Illustration:  ACROSS THE SEA OF SILENCE]

     SHOW ME THE WAY.

     Show me the way that leads to the true life. 
       I do not care what tempests may assail me,
     I shall be given courage for the strife;
       I know my strength will not desert or fail me;
     I know that I shall conquer in the fray: 
               Show me the way.

     Show me the way up to a higher plane,
       Where body shall be servant to the soul. 
     I do not care what tides of woe or pain
       Across my life their angry waves may roll,
     If I but reach the end I seek, some day: 
               Show me the way.

     Show me the way, and let me bravely climb
       Above vain grievings for unworthy treasures;
     Above all sorrow that finds balm in time;
       Above small triumphs or belittling pleasures;
     Up to those heights where these things seem child’s-play: 
               Show me the way.

     Show me the way to that calm, perfect peace
       Which springs from an inward consciousness of right;
     To where all conflicts with the flesh shall cease,
       And self shall radiate with the spirit’s light. 
     Though hard the journey and the strife, I pray,
               Show me the way.