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BEYOND these chilling winds and gloomy skies,
There is a land where beauty never dies,
And love becomes immortal.
A land whose light is never dimmed by shade,
Whose fields are ever vernal,
But bloom for aye eternal.
We may not know how sweet its balmy air,
How bright and fair its flowers;
Through those enchanted bowers.
The city's shining towers we may not see,
With our dim earthly vision :
That opes these gates elysian.
But sometimes, where adown the western sky
The fiery sunset lingers,
Unlocked by silent fingers :
And while they stand a moment half ajar,
Gleams from the inner glory
And half reveal the story.
O land unknown ! O land of love divine !
Father all-wise, eternal, Guide, guide these wandering, way-worn feet of mine Unto those pastures vernal.
NANCY A. W. PRIEST..
I KVOW THOU HAST GONE.
Thou art gone to the Grave. THOU
"HOU art gone to the grave—but we will not deplore Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee,
And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.
Thou art gone to the grave--we no longer behold thee,
Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee,
And sinners may hope since the Sinless has died.
Thou art gone to the grave-and its mansion forsaking,
Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking,
And the song which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song.
Thou art gone to the gravebut 't were wrong to deplore
thee, When God was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy guide ; He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will restore thee, Where death hath no sting, since the Saviour hath died.
I know Thou hast Gone.
KNOW thou hast gone to the house of thy rest,
Then why should my soul be so sad ?
And the mourner looks up and is glad !
The stain it had gathered in this;
Lies asleep on the bosom of bliss !
I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is starred
With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul,
Nor thy heart be flung back from its goal ;
Through a land where they do not forget,
And takes from it only regret.
In thy far-away dwelling, wherever it be,
I believe thou hast visions of mine,
I have not yet learnt to resign;
Or alone with the breeze on the hill,
And my spirit lies down and is still !
Mine eye must be dark, that so long has been dim,
Ere again it may gaze upon thine :
In many a token and sign;
But a light like thy beauty is there-
When I pour out my spirit in prayer.
And though, like a mourner that sits by a tomb,
I am wrapped in a mantle of care-
Is not the black grief of despair ;
Far off a bright vision appears,
THOMAS K. HERVEY. MY FRIEND.
IDE by side we are still, though a shadow
Between us doth fall;
Not wholly and all.
For still you are round and about me,
Almost in my reach ;
Of smile and of speech.
And I long to hear what you are seeing,
And what you have done,
And the heavens begun;
Since you dropped off the darkening fillet
Of clay from your sight, And opened your eyes upon glory
Though little my life has accomplished,
My poor hands have wrought, I have lived what seemed to be ages
In feeling and thought
Since the time when our path grew so narrow
So near the unknown,
And you went on alone.
For we speak of you cheerfully, always,
As journeying on:
We say you are gone.
For how could we speak of you sadly,
We who watched while the grace Of eternity's wonderful beauty
Grew over your face?
Do we call the star lost that is hidden
In the great light of morn?
In the day it is born ?
Yet behold! this were wise to their folly
Who mourn, sore distressed
Enters into its rest!
A Year in Heaven.
YEAR uncalendared; for what
Hast thou to do with mortal time? Its dole of moments entereth not
That circle, mystic and sublime, Whose unreached center is the throne
Of Him, before whose awful brow
As but an everlasting now.
Too far,-beyond my love and tears ;
And count thy time by earthly years !