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SHOT, like an arrow, thro’ the air,
My life is flying. Where, oh where?
The sudden flights on which I go,
And what the aim I may not know.
Ah, when this troubled heart is dead,
When the mark the shaft has sped;
Then should my soul unerring know
The mark to which I trembling go.
Then speeding toward this unknown mark
Need I go trembling thro’ the dark?
No. For one thing I surely know,
It was God’s hand that bent the bow.
This work was published before January 1, 1927, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.