MY HEART IS TURNING
My heart is turning back to May;
The world was then so young and gay:
The birds seemed laughing in the trees,
And flowers scented every breeze.
The peach tree blossoms all are gone,
And it is now September morn;
The days grow short, the nights are cold,
And nature seems so dead and old.
But autumn has its treasures too,
For autumn brings the harvest new,
The luscious fruit, the ripened grains:
In autumn man his food attains.
If earth were always May,
If blossoms never passed away;
We would not have the apples red,
Nor would we have our daily bread.
I will not mourn the time that’s past,
Nor wish that May could ever last;
For May itself was not complete,
Could not my needs entirely meet.
This is the day the Lord has made:
It matters not if flowers fade;
God gives rich blessings in their stead,
New joys are here, though some have fled.
Nor will I dread tomorrow’s dawn,
Nor think that good will then be gone;
For God will me tomorrow love,
And I’ll have blessings from above.
Eternal is God’s love for me,
And I shall never winter see;
My path is like the morning ray,
That brightens on till perfect day.
And I can smile at childhood’s days,
They had the charm of earthly Mays.
But I have treasures richer still
In place of childhood’s morning thrill.
My heart is set beyond the grave,
Beyond the Jordan’s mystic wave:
My life then be all complete,
For there the Prince of Life I’ll meet.
In place of blessings that have flown,
In place of fragments I have known;
I’ll then possess the perfect whole
That lasts while times eternal roll.
Should you who’ve had a later birth
Outlast my days upon this earth;
And should you think you’re called to mourn,
When I in silence hence am borne:
Think then of blessings I have gained,
And of the joys I have attained;
And think how long my race I’ve run;
That I have now the victory won.
This earthly life I must resign,
Or heaven never will be mine:
God’s best for man is never given,
Till death this earthly frame has riven.
You do not mourn the blossoms cast,
When you enjoy the fruit at last;
So why lament what’s left behind,
When you the consummation find?
Image above retrieved from:
Image Title: “The kingdom of heaven.”
Creator: Oakley, Violet, 1874- — Artist
Published Date: 1903
Original Source: From Century magazine.(New York : The Century Co., 1870-)
Source: Mid-Manhattan Picture Collection / Heaven and hell