By S. B.

THE wilderness trail—how lonely it stretches
’Twixt heaven and earth;
How faintly gleams the ray above—
Below; what mirth
Unto my waiting ear ascends,
Yet brings no cheer, but deeper rends
The gulf between.

Alone I seem to walk—alone
The narrow way.
Behind me beckoning far and wide
Are hands of clay.
“Come back! Come back!” the voices cry.
They move me not—my heart wrung dry
I must go on.

I must go on—I will not turn.
Tho’ death may take
Its toll of flesh—body frail,
My soul shall wake
To find the tree lies where it falls.
And there as here, the spirit calls,
“Arise! Arise!”

“Come unto Me—I Am within.
Draw nearer, nearer.
In the glory of My presence learn
That I Am dearer
Than all the worldly paths alluring;
For My Kingdom is enduring
Ever more.”

Before me now a vision comes.
What meaneth this?
A kiss upon my forehead prest—
Eternal bliss!
An instant heart to heart is One;
The trail is gone—and I am spun
Love’s robe of Light.

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