THINGS HOPED FOR.

THESE are the crowns that we shall wear, When all thy saints are crowned; These are the palms that we shall bear On yonder holy ground.

Far off as yet, reserved in heaven,

Above that veiling sky,

They sparkle, like the stars of even,

To hope's far-piercing eye.

These are the robes, unsoiled and white,

Which then we shall put on,

When, foremost 'mong the sons of light, We sit on yonder throne.

That city with the jewelled crest,
Like some new-lighted sun;

A blaze of burning amethyst—

Ten thousand orbs in one ;

48

THINGS HOPED FOR.

That is the city of the saints,

Where we so soon shall stand,

When we shall strike these desert-tents,
And quit this desert-sand.

These are the everlasting hills,

With summits bathed in day:

The slopes down which the living rills,
Soft-lapsing, take their way.

Fair vision! how thy distant gleam
Brightens time's saddest hue;

Far fairer than the fairest dream,
And yet so strangely true!

Fair vision! how thou liftest up
The drooping brow and eye;
With the calm joy of thy sure hope
Fixing our souls on high.

Thy light makes even the darkest page
In memory's scroll grow fair;
Blanching the lines which tears and age
Had only deepened there.

THINGS HOPED FOR.

49

With thee in view, the rugged slope

Becomes a level way,

Smoothed by the magic of thy hope,
And gladdened by thy ray.

With thee in view, how poor appear
The world's most winning smiles;
Vain is the tempter's subtlest snare,
And vain hell's varied wiles.

Time's glory fades; its beauty now
Has ceased to lure or blind;

Each gay enchantment here below

Has lost its power to bind.

Then welcome toil, and care, and pain!

And welcome sorrow too!

All toil is rest, all grief is gain,

With such a prize in view.

Come crown and throne, come robe and palm!

Burst forth glad stream of peace!

Come, holy city of the Lamb!

Rise, Sun of Righteousness!

50

THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE.

When shall the clouds that veil thy rays

Forever be withdrawn?

Why dost thou tarry, day of days?
When shall thy gladness dawn?

THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE.

THE star is not extinguished when it sets
Upon the dull horizon; it but goes
To shine in other skies, then re-appear
In ours, as fresh as when it first arose.

The river is not lost, when, o'er the rock,
It pours its flood into the abyss below:
Its scattered force re-gathering from the shock,
It hastens onward, with yet fuller flow.

The bright sun dies not, when the shadowing orb Of the eclipsing moon obscures its ray:

It still is shining on; and soon to us

Will burst undimmed into the joy of day.

THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE.

The lily dies not, when both flower and leaf

51

Fade, and are strewed upon the chill sad ground; Gone down for shelter to its mother-earth,

'Twill rise, re-bloom, and shed its fragrance round.

The dew-drop dies not, when it leaves the flower,
And passes upward on the beam of morn;

It does but hide itself in light on high,
To its loved flower at twilight to return.

The fine gold has not perished, when the flame
Seizes upon it with consuming glow;
In freshened splendor it comes forth anew,
To sparkle on the monarch's throne or brow.

Thus nothing dies, or only dies to live:

Star, stream, sun, flower, the dew-drop, and the
gold;

Each goodly thing, instinct with buoyant hope,
Hastes to put on its purer, finer mould.

Thus in the quiet joy of kindly trust,

We bid each parting saint a brief farewell;