Люси Ларком (Lucy Larcom)

His Star in the West

OUR way stir is onward; the world is yet young
With a beauty that never was dreamed of, or sung:
Her wonders for eyes that can see them unfold;
And the heart that looks forward will never grow old.
For the splendor that beckons is life — it is youth;
The sweetness of hope and the freshness of truth,
That make a perpetual morning, a spring
Where the flowers always blossom, the birds always sing.
Look forward! move onward! the new work to do,
Will strengthen our sinews, create earth anew!
There are suns beyond suns; there's an East in the West;
In all unexplored seas there are Isles of the Blest.
The years gather over us- only a veil
For the things that are seen: earthly vision must fail,
That the heavenly may clear; the awakening soul
Looks up, drops the fragments, inherits the whole.
Lost empires in Orient oceans are drowned;
Not the Past, but the Future, comes up to be crowned.
Wise men in the East with a great light were blest;
It was Bethlehem's Star, and it led to the West.
It led to the West, and it greatened and glowed
For apostles and martyrs, revealing the road —
Still westward — those pioneer-spirits must take,
Who would bear on Christ's gospel, and die for His sake.
To His latter-day triumph the rich nations bring
Their glory and honor; the earth knows her King.
Our planet rolls into His light from afar;
The true star of empire is Bethlehem's Star.
The kingdom is His; bring Him beauty and youth!
The trophies of learning, the treasures of truth!
Never yet was a conquest of science complete
Until it was laid at the Holy Child's feet.
His cradle is still in the West, as of old.
Through the sunset press on, until sunrise unfold
The light that was never on land or on sea —
The light of His coming, the Life that shall be!
By the glow of that vision we read what we lack;
Inspired, not disheartened; the beautiful track
Entices the traveler forth, day by day,
Entranced with the infinite joy of the way.
We may mourn that the guerdon we seek is not gained;
That the heights we look up to, remain unattained;
But we lower no standard; the Best draws us on,
Though the perfect ideal eludes us, unwon.
We shall win it, O dear fellow-pilgrims! We know
The voices that call through the clear Western glow.
By the old saints forever a new song is sung:
Life beckons us on, and life always is young.

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