Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/73



gain the friendship of the world, How vain the ceaseless strife; We sow the sand, we grasp the wind, We waste the life of life.

Perchance some giddy height we gain, Some gilded treasure show, The footing fails, the shadow 'scapes, We sink in deeper wo.

Yet, baffled, still the toil we try, The eager chase renew, Even though the portals of the grave Yawn on our startled view.

But Thou, whose pitying mercy's tide Is like the unfathom'd sea, Thy love was waiting for our souls, That would not turn to Thee;

Thy hand was stretch'd, Thy voice was heard, Thy fold was open wide, Ah! who the straying sheep can save That shuns the Eternal Guide?