Sometimes in the dark,
When stars in heaven their silent watches keep,
While mother nature rocks the world to sleep,
And all is strangely still;
My soul awakes and vainly strives to see
The why and wherefore of life’s mystery,
And why what was, and is, and is to be
Sometimes in the morn,
When from the golden East another clay.
With ﬂeeting sunkissed feet, comes on her way,
And passes out of sight;
My soul turns back the leaves of memory,
And thoughts of by-gone days return to me;
Some ﬁlled with discord, some with harmony,
Sunk in eternity.
Sometimes in the spring,
When the young earth, o’erﬁlled with love and good.
Wearing the holy smile of motherhood,
Gives all her creatures birth ;
l close my eyes and strive to answer, "Why Should all be born, and live awhile, then die?
What is the end?" But there is no reply,
And why? —
Someday I shall know,
And see with vision clear what now is veiled,
And understand those things which I have failed
To comprehend as now;
And from the summit of the longed-for goal
Shall see anal unclcrstancl the perfect whole
Of all humanity, one pulse, one soul,
One hope for all—
For all are little notes of one great chord
Struck by a Master Hand in cadence broad
And exquisitely grand;
Each little note, in itself incomplete
But blended into something passing sweet
By the great Player's Skill, each measured beat
Striking the boundless shores of the To Be
In widening circles, full and pure and free,
Filling eternity with perfect harmony.