WAITING

Serene I fold my arms and wait,
   Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea:
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
   For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
   For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
   And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
   The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
   Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
   I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
   And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and draw
   The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
   Unto the soul of pure delight.

The floweret nodding in the wind
   Is ready plighted to the bee;
And, maiden, why that look unkind?
   For lo! thy lover seeketh thee.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
   The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high
   Can keep my own away from me.

                     ~ John Burroughs

The Hidden Line

There is a time, we know not when,
   A point we know not where,
That marks the destiny of men
   To glory or despair.

There is a line by us unseen,
   That crosses every path;
The hidden boundary between
   God's patience and His wrath.

To pass that limit is to die,
   To die as if by stealth;
It does not quench the beaming eye,
   Or pale the glow of health.

The conscience may be still at ease,
   The spirits light and gay;
That which is pleasing still may please,
   And care be thrust away.

But on that forehead God has set
   Indelibly a mark,
Unseen by man, for man as yet
   Is blind and in the dark.

And yet the doomed man's path below
   May bloom as Eden bloomed;
He did not, does not, will not know,
   Or feel that he is doomed.

He knows, he feels that all is well,
   And every fear is calmed;
He lives, he dies, he wakes in hell,
   Not only doomed, but damned.

Oh! where is that mysterious bourne
   By which our path is crossed;
Beyond which, God Himself hath sworn,
   That he who goes is lost.

How far may we go on in sin?
   How long will God forbear?
Where does hope end, and where begin
   The confines of despair?

An answer from the skies is sent;
   "Ye that from God depart,
While it's called to-day, repent,
   And harden not your heart."

         ~ Dr. J. Addison Alexander