ALL LIFE HATH SOUL.
The running brook is never straight;A pebble oft will change its course;A tiny twig, a little sandIs oft to it sufficient forceTo send it dancing on its wayTo reach its home, the sparkling sea.So with our lives, from birth to death,We’re struggling ever to be free.A little word, a little thoughtWill change our course, will change our way.For life doth run in devious paths,E’en tiny twig it must obey.Alas! Our soul wings have been bound,Or we would soar beyond the clouds;And know the destiny of man,And why a pall his life enshrouds.We’re reaching up to even God.—For we would know life’s meaning now;Free from the shard that binds our thoughts,And if with soul, God doth endowThe lower animals as we.And if all life hath mind, hath soul?Whatever God hath made, hath life,And mind doth ever life control.All living things; the trees, the flowers,The ocean, mountain, and the sea;The pebbles on the ocean beach,And also grass upon the lea.—We are as sand upon Life’s hill,And but as grass, we live and grow,“Tomorrow in the oven cast;”For Death each day the grass doth mow.
The running brook is never straight;A pebble oft will change its course;A tiny twig, a little sandIs oft to it sufficient forceTo send it dancing on its wayTo reach its home, the sparkling sea.So with our lives, from birth to death,We’re struggling ever to be free.A little word, a little thoughtWill change our course, will change our way.For life doth run in devious paths,E’en tiny twig it must obey.Alas! Our soul wings have been bound,Or we would soar beyond the clouds;And know the destiny of man,And why a pall his life enshrouds.We’re reaching up to even God.—For we would know life’s meaning now;Free from the shard that binds our thoughts,And if with soul, God doth endowThe lower animals as we.And if all life hath mind, hath soul?Whatever God hath made, hath life,And mind doth ever life control.All living things; the trees, the flowers,The ocean, mountain, and the sea;The pebbles on the ocean beach,And also grass upon the lea.—We are as sand upon Life’s hill,And but as grass, we live and grow,“Tomorrow in the oven cast;”For Death each day the grass doth mow.