All, All Will Pass Away

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ALL, ALL WILL PASS AWAY. {For the Improvement Era.)

Grief is the proud soul's discontent Its cry disconsolate

The heart's refusal to assent Its protest against fate.

Yet hungry grief and joy's glad call Can live but for a day; For time, which peaceful broods o'er all, Says: "These will pass away."

And hopes and fears, and glowing dreams And hours that promise joy And placid moons, skies golden beams, And trifles that annoy All, all, —the cherished thoughts of years, Which fond hearts bid to stay Endure no more than childhood's tears They fade and pass away.

Self will not yield. Time seems unkind To rob us of our own These children of the heart and mind The fairest ever known; Yet self must yield. Time's gentle hand Turns winter into May, And holds all passions in command And these, too, pass away.

No thing endures that is not right, The love that claims its life Shall pass like shadows in the night, And pass through untold strife. Love, to endure, must yield its will. And seek God's will alway Then peace the troubled soul may fill, And shall not pass away. ~R. W. Sloan.