Tis the set of the sail

A way, and a way, and away,

A high sous climbs the highway,

And the low soul gropes the low,

And in between on the misty flats,

The rest drift to and fro,

But to every man there openeath,

A high way and a low way,

And every mind decideth,

The way his soul shall go,

One ship sails East,

And another West,

By the self-same winds that blow,

'Tis the set of the sails

And not the gales,

That the winds of the sea

Are the waves of time,

As we journey along through life,

'Tis the set of the soul,

That determines the goal,

And not the calm or the strife.