Why stand ye, nurslings of Earth, before my gates, Mouthing aloud my glory and my thrall? Are ye alone the playthings of the fates, And only ye o'ershadowed with a pall? Turn from this spectacle of strength unbound — This fearful force that spends itself in folly! Turn ye and hark above the organ-sound My Over-song of Melancholy! "I rush and roar Along my shore, — I go sweeping, thundering on; Yet my days, O man, Are but as a span, And soon shall my strength be gone! My times are measured In whose hand I am treasured, (Think not of thy little day!) Though I rush and roar Along my shore, I am passing away — Passing away! "The sun and the moon They too shall soon Sink back into eternal Night : All earth and the sea Shall cease to be, And the stars shall melt in their flight! Their times are measured In whose hand they are treasured, (Think not of thy little day!) The celestial throng Chant my Over-song, — ' Passing away, — Passing away!' " Then stand not, nurslings of Earth, before my gates, Mouthing aloud my glory and my thrall : Not ye alone are playthings of the fates, Nor only ye o'ershadowed with a pall! But hark to my song As I sweep along, Thundering my organ-tone — "O vain is all Life, O vain is all Strife, And fruitless the Years that have flown! As the Worst; so the Best — All haste to their rest In the void of the Primal Unknown."
Source: Logan, John Daniel. Songs of the Makers of Canada and Other Homeland Lyrics. Toronto: William Briggs, 1911.