La Via Dolorosa

I wander here, I wander there, Through the desert of life, all wearily; No joy on earth for the pilgrim soul On, on for ever drearily; O’er the mountain height, In the tempest night, Through the mist and the gloom, We press on to the tomb, While the death‐like pall of a midnight sky Hangs over past and futurity. And the echo of wandering feet I hear, And human voices and hearts are near; But lonely, lonely each one goeth On his dark path, and little knoweth Of love, kind words, or sympathy. Oh! fain would I lay me down and die; For the upward glance of a tearful eye, Is all I have known of humanity. Yet must I on, tho’ darker and drearer And lonelier ever the pathway seems, And the spectral shadow of death draws nearer, And rare and faint are the sun‐light gleams; An unseen power impelleth us on No pause, no rest for the weary one, Till we reach the shores of that fathomless sea Where Time poureth down to Eternity.