The Rising Eagle

My bird, the struggle’s over!
Thy wings, at length unfurled,
Will bear thee, noble rover,
Through yon blue, airy world.
Thy fearless breast has shaken
Earth’s dust and dew away;
Thine eye its aim has taken—
Its mark the orb of day.
Up, up, the faster leaving
Thy rocky rest below,
A fresher strength receiving,
The lighter shalt thou go.
The clouds that hang before thee
Thou soon shalt over-sweep,
Where all is brightness o’er thee,
To swim the upper deep.
Through seas of ether sailing,
Thou lofty, valiant one!
The breath of morn inhaling,
Thy course is to the sun.
The strife was all in lifting
Thy breast from earth at first.
The poising, and the shifting
To balance, was the worst.
And so with us; ‘t is spreading
Our pinions for the skies,
That keeps us low and dreading
The first attempt to rise.
‘T is rousing up and getting
Our balance, that we shun;
With thousand ties besetting,
We shrink from breaking one,
But, when we’re fairly started,
And cleared from all below,
How free and buoyant-hearted,
On eagle wings we go!
And as our bosoms kindle
With pure and holy love,
How all below will dwindle,
And all grow bright above!
The world that we are leaving
Looks little in our sight,
While, clouds and shadows cleaving,
We seek the Source of Light.
Rise! timid soul, and casting
Aside thy doubt and fear,
Mount up where all is lasting;
For all is dying here!
Then, as an eagle training
Her tender young to fly,
The hand, that’s all sustaining,
Will lift thee to the sky.
While higher, higher soaring
Thou’lt feel thy cares are drowned
Where heaven’s bright SUN is pouring
A flood of glory round.