The God of the 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 its light
And followed me as I carried my torch
Through the starless night,
Till drunk with people’s praises
And mad with vanity
I forgot ’twas the torch they followed
And fancied they followed me.
Then slowly my arm grew weary
Upholding the shining load
And my tired feet went stumbling
Over the dusty road.
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 as it smoldered,
And lifted it high again,
Till fanned by the winds of heaven,
It fired the souls of men.
And as I lay in the darkness
The feet of the trampling crowd
Passed over and far beyond me,
Its paeans proclaimed around,
And I learned in the deepening twilight
This glorious verity,
‘Tis the torch that the people follow,
Whoever the bearer may be.
—Author unknown
