Shall this life of mine be wast­ed?
Shall this vine­yard lie un­tilled?
Shall true joy pass by un­tast­ed,
And this soul re­main un­filled?

Shall the God-giv­en hours be scat­tered,
Like the leaves upon the plain?
Shall the blos­soms die un­watered
By the drops of hea­ven­ly rain?

Shall I see each fair sun wak­ing,
And not feel, it wakes for me?
Each glad morn­ing, bright­ly break­ing,
And not feel, it breaks for me?

Shall I see the ros­es blow­ing,
And not wish to bloom as they?
Holy frag­rance round me throw­ing,
Luring oth­ers on the way.

Shall I hear the free bird sing­ing
In the sum­mer’s stain­less sky,
Far aloft its glad flight wing­ing,
And not seek to soar as high?

Shall this heart still spend its trea­sures
On the things that fade and die;
Shall it court the hol­low plea­sures
Of be­wil­der­ing va­ni­ty?

Shall these lips of mine be idle;
Shall I op­en them in vain?
Shall I not with God’s own brid­le
Their fri­vol­ities re­strain?

Shall these eyes of mine still wan­der?
Or, no long­er turned afar,
Fix a firm­er gaze and fon­der
On the bright and morn­ing Star?

Shall these feet of mine, de­lay­ing
Still in ways of sin be found,
Braving snares and mad­ly stray­ing
On the world’s be­witch­ing ground?

No, I was not born to tri­fle
Life away in dreams or sin!
No, I must not, dare not sti­fle
Longings such as these with­in!

Swiftly mov­ing, up­ward, on­ward,
Let my soul in faith be borne;
Calmly gaz­ing, sky­ward, sun­ward,
Let my eye un­blink­ing turn!

Where the cross, God’s love re­veal­ing,
Sets the fet­tered spir­it free,
Where it sheds its won­drous heal­ing,
There my soul, thy rest shall be.

Then no long­er id­ly dream­ing
Shall I fling my years away;
But, each pre­cious hour re­deem­ing,
Wait for the eter­nal day!