Ballads and Lyrics of Old France (11)

    IF this our little life is but a day In the Eternal, - if the years in vain Toil after hours that never come again, - If everything that hath been must decay, Why dreamest thou of joys that pass away, My soul, that my sad body doth restrain？ Why of the moment's pleasure art thou fain？ Nay, thou hast wings, - nay, seek another stay.

    There is the joy whereto each soul aspires, And there the rest that all the world desires, And there is love, and peace, and gracious mirth； And there in the most highest heavens shalt thou Behold the Very Beauty, whereof now Thou worshippest the shadow upon earth.