LET me stand still upon the height of life;
Much has been won, though much there is to win.
I am a little weary of the strife;
Let me stand still awhile, nor count it sin
To cool my hot brow, ease the travel pain,
And then address me to the road again.
Long was the way, and steep and hard the climb;
Sore are my limbs, and fain I am to rest.
Behind me lie long sandy tracks of time;
Before me rises the steep mountain crest.
Let me stand still; the journey is half done,
And when less weary I will travel on.
There is no standing still! Even as I pause,
The steep path shifts and I slip back apace.
Movement was safety; by the journey-laws
No help is given, no safe abiding-place,
No idling in the pathway hard and slow:
I must go forward, or must backward go!
I will go up then, though the limbs may tire,
And though the path be doubtful and unseen;
Better with the last effort to expire
Than lose the toil and struggle that have been,
And have the morning strength, the upward strain,
The distance conquered, in the end made vain.
Ah, blessed law! for rest is tempting sweet,
And we would all lie down if so we might;
And few would struggle on with bleeding feet,
And few would ever gain the higher height,
Except for the stern law which bids us know
We must go forward or must backward go.