O what a woe is this! that I,
A child of Him who reigns on high,
Should dwell in this mortality!
Why do I deem that foul is fair,
That dark is light, and hope despair?
And who is Truth's interpreter?
O well-a-day! and woe is me!
How may I gain the golden key
To loose my fetters and be free?
For life is false, and love is cold,
And truth itself is bought and sold,
And earth is mildewed, worn, and old.
. . . .
Dear dweller in material dust,
When will you learn—as learn you must—
In Spirit is your life and trust?
Who loveth hath eternal youth,
And life is love of God forsooth,
And love is knowledge of the truth.
And life and truth and love belong
To Spirit, who can know no wrong,
The source of beauty, soul of song.
Then lift to Him your longing eyes,
And Love will aid your high emprise,
And lend you counsel sage and wise.
Your ear shall hear, your eye shall see,
And you shall gain the golden key
To loose your fetters and be free.
