Always we are following a light,
Always the light recedes,
With groping hands we stretch toward this glory,
While the lands we journey through are hidden from our sight ....
Dim and mysterious, folded deep in night,
We care not, all our utmost need demands ...
Is but the light, the light !
So still it stands
Surely our own
If we exert our might.
Fool ! never cans't though grasp this fleeting gleam,
Its glowing flame
would die if it were caught,
Its value is that it
doth always seem
But just a little farther on.
Distraught,
But lighted ever onward,
We are brought
Upon our way unknowing,
In a dream ....
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