Why labor for honor? Why seek after fame?
Why toil to establish a popular name?
Fame! aye, what is fame? a bubble—a word—
A sound that's worth nothing—a hope that's deferred;
A heart-sickening hope, too often denied,
Or withheld from the worthy to pander to pride.
Then out upon Fame, let her guerdon be riven,
Nay—hold—let me strive, as I always have striven.
Out, out upon Fame! too late will she come,
Her wreath mocks my brow—will it hang o'er my tomb?
Too much have I labored, too willingly gave
My thoughts to the world—AND HAVE EARNED BUT A GRAVE!
O worldly pomp and glory,
Your charms are spread in vain!
I've heard a sweeter story;
I've found a truer gain.
Where Christ a place prepareth,
There is my loved abode;
There shall I gaze on Jesus;
There shall I dwell with God.