I would not tarry if I could be gone 
Adown the path where calls my eager mind. 
That fate which knows naught but to grip and bind 
Holds me within its grasp, a helpless pawn, 
And checks my steps when I would travel on. 
Forever shall my body lag behind, 
And in this Valley with the Moaning Wind 
Must I abide with never a glimpse of dawn?

Though bends my body toward the yawning sod, 
I can endure the pain, the sorrows rife, 
That hold me fast beneath their chastening rod, 
If from this turmoil and this endless strife, 
Comes there a light to lead Man nearer God, 
And guide his footsteps toward the Larger Life.