Life's Pilgrimage Poem by Alfred Gibbs Campbell

Earth hath no true reality;
Its brightest gems doth time corrode;
Decay is marked on all we see,
And Life is but a weary road,


A sad and weary road to those
Whose sole resource is outward good;
Who never felt the anguished throes
Of earnest longings after God,


Nor heard, in answer to their prayer,
The still small voice of God reply,
'Look, look within thy soul, for there
Behold My dwelling-place have I,


'And I am with thee to uphold,
To guard thee with a Father's care,
And lead thee to the chosen fold
Which for My children I prepare.'


But they who thus have heard His voice
Speak peace and calmness to their souls,
Knowing that they are His, rejoice,
Ev'n though affliction's torrent rolls,


And whelms them 'neath its darksome tide;
'Tis but the baptism of His love,
Through which their spirits, purified,
Behold His smiling face above.


In every drear vicissitude
They recognize a Father's hand;
And direst evils change to good,
By love paternal wisely planned.


Should monsters crouch along their way,
Or shadows from the vale of death
Cast deep'ning gloom across the day,
'Tis but to exercise their faith.


By faith are shut the monsters' jaws,
And deepest night doth day become,
While each succeeding trial draws
The faithful nearer to their home.


Though in Humiliation's vale
Awhile their souls may mourn and sigh,
Soon their enraptured eyes shall hail,
From Joy's sure mount, the scenes which lie


Before them stretching bright and fair,
Brighter than poet's fairest dreams;
While heavenly music fills the air,
And God's smile o'er their pathway beams.


Thus shall they upward, onward press,
To Heaven's serene and changeless clime,
Whose unimaginable bliss
Shall compensate the woes of Time!