| |
| ALL night long through the starlit air and the stillness, | |
| Through the cool wanness of dawn and the burning of noontide, | |
| Onward we strain with a mighty resounding of hoof-beats. | |
| |
| Heaven and earth are ashake with the terrible trampling; | |
| Wild, straying feet of a vast and hastening army; | 5 |
| Wistful eyes that helplessly seek one another. | |
| |
| Hushed is the dark to hear the plaint of our lowing, | |
| Mournful cry of the dumb-tired hearts within us, | |
| Faint to death with thirst and the gnawing of hunger. | |
| |
| Day by day through the dust and heat have we thirsted; | 10 |
| Day by day through stony ways have we hungered; | |
| Naught but a few bitter herbs that grew by the wayside. | |
| |
| What we flee that is far behind in the darkness, | |
| Where the place of abiding for us, we know not; | |
| Only we hark for the voice of the Master Herdsman. | 15 |
| |
| Many a weary day must pass ere we hear it, | |
| Blown on the winds, now close, now far in the distance, | |
| Deep as the void above us and sweet as the dawn-star. | |
| |
| He it is who drives us and urges us always, | |
| Faint with a need that is ever present within us, | 20 |
| Struggling onward and toiling one by the other. | |
| |
| Ever we long and cry for rest, but it comes not; | |
| Broke are our feet and sore and bruised by the climbing; | |
| Sharp is his goad in our quivering flanks when we falter, | |
| |
| And some fall down with a plaintive moaning, and perish; | 25 |
| But upward we strain nor stop, for the Voice comes to us, | |
| Driving us on once more to the press and the struggle. | |
| |
| Then when we know His Presence the hard way lightens; | |
| Turn we our piteous eyes to the far-stretching highway; | |
| Struggle ahead in the dark as trusting as children. | 30 |
| |
| What we flee that is far behind in the darkness, | |
| Where the place of abiding for us, we know not; | |
| Only we hark for the Voice—till hope fades from us. | |
| |
| Heaven and earth are ashake with the terrible trampling, | |
| Wild straying feet of a vast and hastening army, | 35 |
| Wistful hearts that helplessly seek one another. | |
| |
| All night long through the star-lit air and the stillness, | |
| Through the cool wanness of dawn and the burning of noontide, | |
| Onward we strain with a mighty resounding of hoof-beats. | |
| |
