Night or light is it now, wherein
Sleeps, shut out from the wild world's din,
⁠Wakes, alive with a life more clear,
One who found not on earth his kin?

Sleep were sweet for awhile, were dear
Surely to souls that were heartless here,
⁠Souls that faltered and flagged and fell,
Soft of spirit and faint of cheer.

A living soul that had strength to quell
Hope the spectre and fear the spell,
⁠Clear-eyed, content with a scorn sublime
And a faith superb, can it fare not well?