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::R5752 : page 253::

PILGRIMS ALL, IN SOLEMN HASTE

“Silent, like men in solemn haste,
Girded wayfarers of the waste,
We pass out at the world’s wide gate,
Turning our back on all its state;
We press along the narrow road
That leads to life, to bliss, to God.

“We cannot and we would not stay;
We dread the snares that throng the way;
We fling aside the weight and sin,
Resolved the victory to win;
We know the peril, but our eyes
Rest on the splendor of the prize.

“‘Tis but a little and we come
To our reward, our crown, our Home!
Another year, or more, or less,
And we have crossed the wilderness;
Finished the toil, the rest begun,
The battle fought, the triumph won!

“We grudge not, then, the toil, the way;
Its ending is the endless Day!
We shrink not from these tempests keen,
With little of the calm between;
We welcome each descending sun;
Ere morn our joy may be begun!”

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— August 15, 1915 —