THE LIFELONG WAR

Still goes the strife; the anguish does not die.

Stronger the flesh is grown from earthy years,

In siege about my soul that upward peers

To see and hold its Good. The spirit's eye

Approves the better things; but senses spy

The passing sweets, spurning the present fears,

And take their moment's prize. Ah, then hot tears

Deluge my soul, and contrite moans my cry!

Courage, my heart: bright patience to the end!

Few years remain; then goes the warring wall

Of sensely flesh, that men will throw to earth.

So be it; so the contrite soul shall wend

A homeward way unto the Captain's call,

Eternally to know contrition's worth.