Life is a dream, from now until tomorrow
We know not what may hap, none can foretell
The pains that we may feel, the joy or sorrow,
The birth of hope, or its sad passing knell.
Like one who sleepeth knows not time is fleeting,
Nor counts the precious moments as they fly.
Thus are we idly soul and body steeping-—
The summons comes at last—Prepare to die.
Behold, ere long will come the great Awaking,
When all must view with shamed and pleading eyes
The fabric that, unconscious, we are making,
With heart-wrung prayers, or careless smiles and sighs.
we are preparing a chamber of the soul where the Divine Presence may dwell.