This world is all a fleeting show,
For man’s illusion given;
The smiles of Joy, the tears of Woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow—
There’s nothing true but Heaven!
And false the light on Glory’s plume,
As fading hues of Even;
And Love, and Hope, and Beauty’s bloom,
Are blossoms gathered for the tomb—
There’s nothing bright but Heaven!
Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we’re driven;
And Fancy’s flash and Reason’s ray
Serve but to light the troubled way—
There’s nothing calm but Heaven!