Every life is many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love. But always meeting ourselves.
The camel, at the close of day, Kneels down upon the sandy plain To have his burden lifted off And rest again. My soul, thou too should to thy knees When daylight draweth to a close, And let thy Master lift the load And grant repose.
Wherever we are, it is but a stage on the way to somewhere else, and whatever we do, however well we do it, it is only a preparation to do something else that shall be different.