ÀλýÂù°¡ PSALM OF LIFE

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"³Ê´Â ÈëÀÌ´Ï ÈëÀ¸·Î µ¹¾Æ°¡¶ó"
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¿ì¸®°¡ °¡¾ß ÇÒ °÷, ¶ÇÇÑ °¡´Â ±æÀº
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ÇൿÇÏ´Â ±×°ÍÀÌ ¸ñÀûÀÌ¿ä ±æÀÌ´Ù.

¿¹¼úÀº ±æ°í ÀλýÀº »¡¸® °£´Ù.
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À§ÀεéÀÇ »ý¾Ö´Â ¿ì¸®¸¦ ±ú¿ìÄ¡´À´Ï,
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Æļ±µÇ¾î ¹ö·ÁÁø ÇüÁ¦°¡ º¸°í
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¿ì¸® ¸ðµÎ ÀϾ ÀÏÇÏÁö ¾ÊÀ¸·Á³ª,
¾î¶² ¿î¸íÀεé À̰ܳ¾ ¿ë±â¸¦ Áö´Ï°í,
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ÀÏÇÏ¸ç ±â´Ù¸²À» ¹è¿ìÁö ¾ÊÀ¸·Á³ª.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
     "Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
     And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
     And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
     Was not spoken of the soul.
 
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
     Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
     Find us father than to-day.
 
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
     And our hearts, though stout and brave
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
     Funeral marches to the grave.
 
In the world's broad field of battle,
     In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
     Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
     Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
     Heart within, and God o'er head!

Lives of great man all remind us
     We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
     Footprints, on the sand of time:-

Footprints, that perhaps another,
     Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
     Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
     With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing.
     Learn to labour and to wait.