On earth; but on the shores of bliss,
In how sweet life his spirit lands,
'Mid welcome of immortal bands,
And of that dear one passed ere this!
Upon the best day of the seven
Both into glory sped away;
And when men met on earth to pray, They worshipped in the calm of heaven.
The birthday that he longed so for,
He kept in heaven, not on earth:
He had attained a higher birth,
All perfect now,-scarce less before.
They are waiting there,
And for thy coming list;
Not mindless of a mother's care,
And the dear lips they kissed.
In the skies they see no star
Brighter than her sweet eyes are;
And they hear no melody
Sweeter than her soft lullaby.
Nay, oftentimes, from heaven straying,
They visit her in the twilight gloom,
Softly around her dear form playing,
As she thinks of their early tomb;
And over the sorrowing, sorrowful mind
Inexpressible calm do they leave behind.
Died they because our earth has grown
Too dark, too black with crime,
To be a fitting clime
For souls whom heaven calls her own?
Or yet, because they were unfit
For man's perpetual toil,
And all the world's turmoil,-
The daily, weary load of it?
Or that to chosen souls are given
White wings ineffable,
Which, from their earthly cell,
Bear them aloft to heaven?
With the hard burden of this weary globe;
Or stain the lustre of their snowy robe
With earthly mire ;
May rouse their sacred souls from mystic calm,
Nor may
their cheeks grow pale with vague alarm,
Or wet with tears.
And they are ambassadors,
Landing on supernal shores,
Of a kingdom and a King
Greater than the poets sing.
They are heralds sent before,
To tell, that as the years pass o'er,
Their beloved ones hope to come
To the everlasting home.
They are gifts, and gladly given,
Pledges of our love to heaven;
Gifts that we ought scarce to miss,-
Ours still more, since they are His:
Anchors in Eternity,
The immeasurable sea;
'Mid the elemental strife,
Holding fast the bark of life.
They are stars to light our sky,
And uplift our souls on high;
Stars that shed a guiding ray
As we pass upon our way.
For every sob a shout shall rise
;
Each woe shall have its consolation,
Each cross its crown; for desolation,
A paradise shall greet our eyes.
In the Word are balms for care,
Promises spread here and there,
Consolations everywhere.
When thy tears would flow anew,
Think of those who suffered too,
And their bright example view:
"Is the child dead?" king David cried : They answered, "He is dead."
He rose up calm and satisfied,
And reverently he said,
In half a plaint of misery,
And half, a pious hymn,— "I know he cannot come to me, But I shall go to him."
In olden times, the Shunamite
Was happy in her son;
But death struck down her life's delight,
God took her darling one.
She rose up when she saw him dead,
The man of God to tell :
"Is it well with the child?" he said,
She answered, "It is well!”
66 Not my will, but Thine be done,"
Jesus said, and rose assured:
Never yet beneath the sun
Was such agony endured.
Mourning mother, dost thou think
Thy woes may with His compare?
'Neath His load He did not sink;
Should'st thou, 'neath thy little share?
As o'er the storm extends the bow,
Let resignation conquer woe;
The voice of faith God ever hears,
Though through it thrills the sound of tears.
"Thy will, not mine be done," then say,
And bow thee humbly to the rod ;
"God gave, and God doth take away,
And blessèd be the name of God."
I CANNOT Weep thou art not here,
Nor can I breathe a sigh;
My spirit follows to thy home,
And I am ever nigh.
Although we walk through paths apart,
Both lead to one fair dome;
Though form from form, not heart from heart, Must separately roam.
I know the sun yet rules in light,
Although he be not seen,-
Although with me it is as night,
My day shall come, I ween.
The star that flickers down the sky
Shall rise o'er other lands;
The sea that hastens from the shore
Embraces other strands.
I know my arms shall clasp thee round, My heart shall throb with thine; And thou shalt hear my words of love; At length, thou shalt be mine.
The poets say that there are times
When we the future see
Mapped out before us clear and bright;
And so it is with me.
"Her life shall flow in one with thine,"
Star voices seem to chime :—
God fit me for her! I will trust,
Yea, I will bide the time.
OH, those sweet notes thou wast singing
Ever on my brain are ringing,
Mingling music with my thought,
Coming daily, and unsought;
Like rose-leaves floating on the wind,
That leave a sweet perfume behind.
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