“薄雾笼罩在山上;烟雾悬在空中;连云都静止不动:到处都是令人窒息的平静。走过这泪谷的朝圣者啊，你也暂时停止你的劳碌和不安的恐惧吧，让你在平静中休息片刻吧。”“我也想，可是时间总是不停地工作，无论好坏，它都在不停地前进，它不会休息，也不会停留。或痛苦或安逸，或微笑或流泪，他仍在增加我的年岁，又偷走我的生命。我仿佛听见他的脚步声，在那边不停的钟声中，那脚步声在这深沉的寂静中，清晰地击中了空虚的耳朵。因为他不停地大步前进，不分昼夜;我的生命很快就会消逝，就像过去的岁月悄悄溜走。他很久以前就夺去了我的童年，又夺去了我的少年;瞧，他偷走了我的青春! I cannot see how fast it goes, But well my inward spirit knows The wasting power of time.' 'Time steals thy moments, drinks thy breath, Changes and wastes thy mortal frame; But though he gives the clay to death, He cannot touch the inward flame. Nay, though he steals thy years away, Their memory is left thee still, And every month and every day Leaves some effect of good or ill. The wise will find in Memory's store A help for that which lies before To guide their course aright; Then, hush thy plaints and calm thy fears; Look back on these departed years, And, say, what meets thy sight?' 'I see, far back, a helpless child, Feeble and full of causeless fears, Simple and easily beguiled To credit all it hears. More timid than the wild wood-dove, Yet trusting to another's care, And finding in protecting love Its only refuge from despair, - Its only balm for every woe, The only bliss its soul can know; - Still hiding in its breast. A tender heart too prone to weep, A love so earnest, strong, and deep It could not be expressed. Poor helpless thing! what can it do Life's stormy cares and toils among; - How tread this weary desert through That awes the brave and tires the strong? Where shall it centre so much trust Where truth maintains so little sway, Where seeming fruit is bitter dust, And kisses oft to death betray? How oft must sin and falsehood grieve A heart so ready to believe, And willing to admire! With strength so feeble, fears so strong, Amid this selfish bustling throng, How will it faint and tire! That tender love so warm and deep, How can it flourish here below? What bitter floods of tears must steep The stony soil where it would grow! O earth! a rocky breast is thine A hard soil and a cruel clime, Where tender plants must droop and pine, Or alter with transforming time. That soul, that clings to sympathy, As ivy clasps the forest tree, How can it stand alone? That heart so prone to overflow E'en at the thought of others' woe, How will it bear its own? How, if a sparrow's death can wring Such bitter tear-floods from the eye, Will it behold the suffering Of struggling, lost humanity? The torturing pain, the pining grief, The sin-degraded misery, The anguish that defies relief?' 'Look back again - What dost thou see?' 'I see one kneeling on the sod, With infant hands upraised to Heaven, A young heart feeling after God, Oft baffled, never backward driven. Mistaken oft, and oft astray, It strives to find the narrow way, But gropes and toils alone: That inner life of strife and tears, Of kindling hopes and lowering fears To none but God is known. 'Tis better thus; for man would scorn Those childish prayers, those artless cries, That darkling spirit tossed and torn, But God will not despise! We may regret such waste of tears Such darkly toiling misery, Such 'wildering doubts and harrowing fears, Where joy and thankfulness should be; But wait, and Heaven will send relief. Let patience have her perfect work: Lo, strength and wisdom spring from grief, And joys behind afflictions lurk! It asked for light, and it is heard; God grants that struggling soul repose And, guided by His holy word, It wiser than its teachers grows. It gains the upward path at length, And passes on from strength to strength, Leaning on Heaven the while: Night's shades departing one by one, It sees at last the rising sun, And feels his cheering smile. In all its darkness and distress For light it sought, to God it cried; And through the pathless wilderness, He was its comfort and its guide.' 'So was it, and so will it be: Thy God will guide and strengthen thee; His goodness cannot fail. The sun that on thy morning rose Will light thee to th