It Cometh

It cometh! the day after night-time,The sunshine after the rain,The golden sky after a tempest,Happiness after sharp pain:Then lift up thy head, silly weeper,And take up thy burden again.

There's a hope-star gleaming and glowing,Though hid in a vapory mist;There's a beautiful pinnacled cityAway in the blue amethyst;And the mountains burst out of shadowWhen their brows by sunshine are kissed.

Men level the oak of the forest,But the roots remain in the earth,They clamor for newer existence,And spring to strong second birth;And 'tis thus with a fortune-crushed mortal,Whose soul has the true royal worth.

The best steel has most refining,Gold is assayed by hot fire;And the heart is oft tried by the wreckingOf passion, and hope, and desire;But the wind which will conquer a sparrowBut makes an eagle soar higher.

Then cast off the fetters of fortune,Nor bow to fate's autocrat nod!And scorn to walk tamely the pathwayA craven-souled million have trod:Be worthy thy glorious destiny,Man, made in the image of God!