The heavens themselves shall vanish as a scroll, The solid earth dissolve, the stars grow pale, But thou, O Human Soul,

Shalt be immortal! Hail ! Thou young Immortal, Hail! He, before whom are dim

Seraph and cherubim,

Who gave the archangels strength and majesty,

Who sits upon heaven's throne,

The everlasting One,

Thou little child, made thee!

Fair habitant of earth,

Immortal in thy God, though mortal by thy birth, Born for life's trials, hail! all hail to thee!

THE DEATH.

Shrink not, O Human Spirit!

The Everlasting Arm is strong to save!
Look up, look up, frail nature! put thy trust
In Him who went down mourning to the dust,
And overcame the grave!

Quickly goes down the sun;
Life's work is almost done;

Fruitless endeavor, hope deferred, and strife!
One little struggle more,

One pang, and then is o'er

All the long, mournful weariness of life.

Kind friends, 'tis almost past;
Come now, and look your last!

Sweet children, gather near,

And his last blessing hear.

See how he loved you who departeth now!
And, with thy trembling step and pallid brow,
O, most beloved one,

Whose breast he leaned upon,

Come, faithful unto death,

Receive his parting breath!

The fluttering spirit panteth to be free,

Hold him not back who speeds to victory!

-The bonds are riven, the struggling soul is free!
Hail, hail, enfranchised spirit!

Thou that the wine-press of the field hath trod !
On, blessed Immortal, on through boundless space,
And stand with thy Redeemer, face to face,

And stand before thy God!

Thou art of earth no more :

No more art trammelled by the oppressive clay,

But tread'st with wingéd ease

The high acclivities

Of truths sublime, up heaven's crystalline way.

Here is no bootless quest;

The city's name is Rest ;
Here shall no fear appall;

Here love is all in all;

Here shalt thou win thy ardent soul's desire;
Here clothe thee in thy beautiful attire.

Lift, lift thy wondering eyes!

Yonder is Paradise,

And this fair shining band

Are spirits of thy land!

And these that throng to meet thee are thy kin,
Who have awaited thee, redeemed from sin !

WHERE are the mighty ones of ages past,
Who o'er the world their inspiration cast, -
Whose memories stir our spirits like a blast?
Where are the dead?

Where are the lofty minds of Greece? Where be
The men of Sparta and Thermopyla?

The conquering Macedonian, where is he?
Where are the dead?

Where are Rome's founders? Where her chiefest son, Before whose name the whole known world bowed

down,

Whose conquering arm chased the retreating sun? — Where are the dead?

Where's the bard-warrior king of Albion's state,
A pattern for earth's sons to emulate,

The truly, nobly, wisely, goodly great?→
Where are the dead?

Where is Gaul's hero, who aspired to be

A second Cæsar in his mastery, ·

To whom earth's crowned ones trembling bent the

knee?

Where are the dead?

Where is Columbia's son, her darling child,
Upon whose birth Virtue and Freedom smiled, -
The Western Star, bright, pure, and undefiled? –
Where are the dead?

Where are the sons of song, the soul-inspired,
The bard of Greece, whose muse (of Heaven acquired)
With admiration ages past has fired, -

The classic dead?

Greater than all,

an earthly Sun enshrined, —

Where is the King of bards? Where shall we find

The Swan of Avon,- - monarch of the mind,

The mighty dead?

With their frail bodies, did they wholly die,
Like the brute dead passing for ever by?
Then wherefore was their intellect so high,
The mighty dead?

Why was it not confined to earthly sphere,
To earthly wants? If it must perish here,
Why did they languish for a bliss more dear,
The blesséd dead?

If here they perished, in their being's germ,Here thought and aspiration had their term, Why should a giant's strength propel a worm? The dead the dead,

There are no dead! The forms, indeed, did die,
That cased the ethereal beings now on high:
'Tis but the outward covering is thrown by :-
This is the dead!

The spirits of the lost, of whom we sing,
Have perished not; they have but taken wing, –
Changing an earthly for a Heavenly spring:
There are the dead!

A DREAM OF HEAVEN.

Lo, the seal of death is breaking,
Those who slept its sleep are waking,

Eden opes her portals fair!

Hark, the harps of God are ringing,
Hark, the seraph's hymn is singing,
And the living rills are flinging
Music on immortal air!

There no more at eve declining,
Suns without a cloud are shining