Ah! that bliss can ne'er be told
When with all that army bright
Thee, my Sun, I shall behold,
Shining, star-like, with Thy light!
Amen, thanks be brought to Thee,
Praise through all eternity!
HE hath but passed to Heaven, as if from sleep
Sleep soft and peaceful; she awoke to find
Earth with its pangs and tears all left behind!
Rose her freed spirit up the airy steep,
On steady wings, beyond where pale stars keep
Their watch o'er mortal griefs; she upward sped,
Not lonely, but by sister spirits led,
To that dear home where eyes do never weep:
Strange rapture thrilled her there; and straight her
With sweet accord, swelled the eternal hymn
Of souls redeemed, led by the seraphim;
Whose echoes through the circling ages float.
Now living, conscious, pure as angels bright,
With God she dwells in everlasting light.
Who would recall her to tread o'er again
The mortal path-from Heaven's pure bliss recall?
The wish were weakness-though full oft must fall
Thick blinding tears, from eyes that once were fain
To catch her genial smile, ne'er sought in vain.
Though many an hour fond hearts be sad and lone,
And miss, and yearn once more to drink the tone
That lingers in the ear, like some lost strain.
No, ye that loved her, now to Heaven resign,
Nor wish her from that nobler life withdrawn ;
The night of grief shall pass; and with the morn
Shall come sweet memories; and a face divine
With all your worthiest thoughts shall blend,
And a fair form your wandering steps attend.
HE is in Heaven! How sweet the phrase!
Yet its high import who can tell?
Here like a glimmering beam it plays,
Of light, of joy ineffable.
She is in Heaven, to form a link
Between thy heart and worlds unseen,
That then, when Nature's powers must sink,
Faith's holier virtue may be seen.
She is in Heaven, that thou, like her,
May'st shine with a pure steadfast light;
Attract their eyes whose footsteps err,
And guide their wandering feet aright.
She is in Heaven; though still unseen,
With hers thy notes of praise may blend; On the same Rock thy soul may lean, To the same centre hourly tend.
FIND ROOM, DEAR LORD, FOR ME.
"In My Father's House are many Mansions."
WHEN did lips such grace declare?
The Father's house hath room!
Yes, many are the mansions fair;
Thy people all may come.
The heavenly glory may not part
Thy lovers, Lord, from thee:
O Saviour sweet, where'er Thou art
There all Thine own shall be.
Full welcome to the heavenly land
Thy lowly lovers win;
The golden gates all open stand
To let Thy mourners in.
Thou bringest home Thy shining ones
In Thine own light to shine:
Thou settest high on glorious thrones
Those hidden ones of Thine.
To catch her genial smile, ne'er sought in vain.
Though many an hour fond hearts be sad and lone,
And miss, and yearn once more to drink the tone
That lingers in the ear, like some lost strain.
No, ye that loved her, now to Heaven resign,
Nor wish her from that nobler life withdrawn ;
The night of grief shall pass; and with the morn
Shall come sweet memories; and a face divine
With all your worthiest thoughts shall blend,
And a fair form your wandering steps attend.
HE is in Heaven! How sweet the phrase!
Yet its high import who can tell?
Here like a glimmering beam it plays,
Of light, of joy ineffable.
She is in Heaven, to form a link
Between thy heart and worlds unseen,
That then, when Nature's powers must sink,
Faith's holier virtue may be seen.
She is in Heaven, that thou, like her,
May'st shine with a pure steadfast light;
Attract their eyes whose footsteps err,
And guide their wandering feet aright.
She is in Heaven; though still unseen,
With hers thy notes of praise may blend;
On the same Rock thy soul may lean,
To the same centre hourly tend.
FIND ROOM, DEAR LORD, FOR ME.
"In My Father's House are many Mansions."
WHEN did lips such grace declare?
The Father's house hath room!
Yes, many are the mansions fair;
Thy people all may come.
The heavenly glory may not part
Thy lovers, Lord, from thee:
O Saviour sweet, where'er Thou art
There all Thine own shall be.
Full welcome to the heavenly land
Thy lowly lovers win;
The golden gates all open stand
To let Thy mourners in.
Thou bringest home Thy shining ones
In Thine own light to shine:
Thou settest high on glorious thrones
Those hidden ones of Thine.
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