Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Nov. 5, 1850 - Oct. 30, 1919



by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Sometimes when I am all alone,
Away from noise and strife,
The many faults and weaknesses,
That rule my daily life
Seem to die out. And as I sit
From worldliness apart,
All that is good and pure obtains
The mastery of my heart.

And then my soul turns heavenward,
And I commune with God.
I long to tread the narrow path
That Christ before me trod.
I long to see his precious face --
To go where angels go,
To leave the fleeting, fading things
That make up life below.

My soul expands with ecstacy,
My heart grows brave, and strong,
To meet whatever lies ahead --
To battle down the wrong.
No sorrow can affright my soul,
No earthly ill, I fear,
While in that blessed trance I sit
And feel that God is near.

And then I mingle with the world,
And falter day by day.
Until at last I walk within
The olden, sinful way.
O, shall I even grow in grace,
O shall I ever be,
Ready to meet the judgment day --
Fit for eternity?



Copyright 1873
Hauser & Storey, Milwaukee