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The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems

by Hanford Lennox Gordon

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Dust to Dust

    Dust to dust:
Fall and perish love and lust:
  Life is one brief autumn day;
  Sin and sorrow haunt the way
  To the narrow house of clay,
Clutching at the good and just:
    Dust to dust.

    Dust to dust:
Still we strive and toil and trust,
  From the cradle to the grave:
  Vainly crying, “Jesus, save!”
  Fall the coward and the brave,
Fall the felon and the just:
    Dust to dust.

    Dust to dust:
Hark, I hear the wintry gust;
  Yet the roses bloom to-day,
  Blushing to the kiss of May,
  While the north winds sigh and say:
“Lo we bring the cruel frost—
    Dust to dust.”

    Dust to dust:
Yet we live and love and trust,
  Lifting burning brow and eye
  To the mountain peaks on high:
  From the peaks the ages cry,
Strewing ashes, rime and rust:
    “Dust to dust!”

    Dust to dust:
What is gained when all is lost?
  Gaily for a day we tread—
  Proudly with averted head
  O’er the ashes of the dead—
Blind with pride and mad with lust:
    Dust to dust.

    Hope and trust:
All life springs from out the dust:
  Ah, we measure God by man,
  Looking forward but a span
  On His wondrous, boundless plan;
All His ways are wise and just;
    Hope and trust.

    Hope and trust:
Hope will blossom from the dust;
  Love is queen: God’s throne is hers;
  His great heart with loving force
  Throbs throughout the universe;
We are His and He is just;
    Hope and trust.

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