The God of high endeavor gave me a torch to bear.
I lifted it high above me in the dark and murky air.
And straightway with loud Hosannas the crowd proclaimed it’s light.
And followed “me” as I carried the torch through the dark gloom of the night.
‘Til drunk with the people’s praises and mad with vanity.
I forgot the torch they followed and fancied they followed me.
Straightway my arms grew weary upholding the shining load.
And my feet grew fixed with plodding over the rugged road.
And I fell- with the torch beneath me-
In a moment the light was out…
When lo! From the throng a stripling sprang forth with a mighty shout.
Caught up the torch where it smoldered and lifted it high again.
‘Til fanned by the winds of heaven it fired the souls of men.
And the crowd passed on beyond me its paeans proclaiming clear.
The joy, the hope, the assurance found in the light so dear.
As I lay in the gathering darkness, I learned this verity.
‘Tis the torch the people follow whoever the bearer might be.