Sitting in the Sun
When Hope deceives, and friends betray,
And kinsmen shun me with a flout;
When hair grows white, and eyes grow dim,
And life’s slow sand is nigh run out,
I’ll ask no boon of any one,
But sing old songs, and sit i’ the sun.
When memory is my only joy,
And all my thoughts shall backward turn;
When eyes shall cease to glow with love,
And heart with generous fire to burn,
I’ll ask no boon of any one,
But sing old songs, and sit i’ the sun.
When sounds grow low to deafening ears,
And suns shine not as once they did;
When parting is no more a grief,
And I do whatsoe’er they bid,
I’ll ask no boon of any one,
But sing old songs, and sit i’ the sun.
Then underneath a spreading elm,
That guards some little cottage door,
I’ll dance a grandchild on my knee,
And count my past days o’er and o’er;
I’ll ask no boon of any one,
But sing old songs and sit i’ the sun.
Anonymous.
How far from here to heaven?
Not very far, my friend;
A single hearty step
Will all thy journey end.
Hold there! where runnest thou?
Know heaven is in thee!
Seek’st thou for God elsewhere?
His face thou’lt never see.
Go out, God will go in;
Die thou, and let Him live;
Be not, and He will be;
Wait, and He’ll all things give.
I don’t believe in death.
If hour by hour I die,
’Tis hour by hour to gain
A better life thereby.
Angelus Silesius, A. D. 1620.