My Soul And I

Stand still, my soul, in the silent dark     I would question thee,     Alone in the shadow drear and stark     With God and me!     What, my soul, was thy errand here?     Was it mirth or ease,     Or heaping up dust from year to year?     "Nay, none of these!"     Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight     Whose eye looks still     And steadily on thee through the night     "To do His will!"     What hast thou done, O soul of mine,     That thou tremblest so?     Hast thou wrought His task, and kept the line     He bade thee go?     Aha! thou tremblest! well I see     Thou 'rt craven grown.     Is it so hard with God and me     To stand alone?     Summon thy sunshine bravery back,     O wretched sprite!     Let me hear thy voice through this deep and black     Abysmal night.     What hast thou wrought for Right and Truth,     For God and Man,     From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth     To life's mid span?     What, silent all! art sad of cheer?     Art fearful now?     When God seemed far and men were near,     How brave wert thou!     Ah, soul of mine, thy tones I hear,     But weak and low,     Like far sad murmurs on my ear     They come and go.     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.     Why fear the night? why shrink from Death;     That phantom wan?     There is nothing in heaven or earth beneath     Save God and man.     Peopling the shadows we turn from Him     And from one another;     All is spectral and vague and dim     Save God and our brother!     Like warp and woof all destinies     Are woven fast,     Linked in sympathy like the keys     Of an organ vast.     Pluck one thread, and the web ye mar;     Break but one     Of a thousand keys, and the paining jar     Through all will run.     O restless spirit! wherefore strain     Beyond thy sphere?     Heaven and hell, with their joy and pain,     Are now and here.     Back to thyself is measured well     All thou hast given;     Thy neighbor's wrong is thy present hell,     His bliss, thy heaven.     And in life, in death, in dark and light,     All are in God's care     Sound the black abyss, pierce the deep of night,     And He is there!     All which is real now remaineth,     And fadeth never     The hand which upholds it now sustaineth     The soul forever.     Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness     His own thy will,     And with strength from Him shall thy utter weakness     Life's task fulfil;     And that cloud itself, which now before thee     Lies dark in view,     Shall with beams of light from the inner glory     Be stricken through.     And like meadow mist through autumn's dawn     Uprolling thin,     Its thickest folds when about thee drawn     Let sunlight in.     Then of what is to be, and of what is done,     Why queriest thou?     The past and the time to be are one,     And both are now