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And think soon to enter and cull the flowers,
And to pass 'mid its beauty our joyous hours,
But nearing we find the mirage has fled,
That a withering blight o'er our hopes has spread,
And we know we have had but a waking dream,
And our pictures of joy are not what they seem.
And to pass 'mid its beauty our joyous hours,
But nearing we find the mirage has fled,
That a withering blight o'er our hopes has spread,
And we know we have had but a waking dream,
And our pictures of joy are not what they seem.
But one blissful vision comes o'er and o'er,
And ever more vivid than e'er before;
It comes in the hush of the silent night,
It comes when the life-teeming noon is bright,
In our separate haunts, 'mid the busy throng,
When we tremble with fear, when our hearts are strong;
There rises before us a city fair,
Where the sun is ne'er shadowed with clouds of care,
With walls all of jasper, and streets of gold,
With portals of pearl, and with wealth untold;
And One with His glory lights all around,
And blesses the throngs that His throne surround,
Encircles each brow with a victor's.crown,
And 1 token of worship they cast it down.
No frown on their forehead, no tear-dimmed eye,
They utter no murmur, they heave no sigh;
But we hear, as it were from an angel-band,
Sweet snatches of song in that far-off land.
Then we dream that we see on that golden floor
The faces of some we have seen before,
And we picture ourselves in the glorious scene
Gazing full on the light, with no veil between.
And ever more vivid than e'er before;
It comes in the hush of the silent night,
It comes when the life-teeming noon is bright,
In our separate haunts, 'mid the busy throng,
When we tremble with fear, when our hearts are strong;
There rises before us a city fair,
Where the sun is ne'er shadowed with clouds of care,
With walls all of jasper, and streets of gold,
With portals of pearl, and with wealth untold;
And One with His glory lights all around,
And blesses the throngs that His throne surround,
Encircles each brow with a victor's.crown,
And 1 token of worship they cast it down.
No frown on their forehead, no tear-dimmed eye,
They utter no murmur, they heave no sigh;
But we hear, as it were from an angel-band,
Sweet snatches of song in that far-off land.
Then we dream that we see on that golden floor
The faces of some we have seen before,
And we picture ourselves in the glorious scene
Gazing full on the light, with no veil between.
Is it only a dream? Shall we wake at morn
To find it like others that are earth-born?
Will its glory grow pale like the sunset-glow?
May we only in fancy that rapture know?
Oh! tremble we not, though the morn shall break,
And we from our dream of delight shall wake;
'Twill be but to find that the shades have fled,
And the substance of glory is left instead,
And more bright will it be, more enchanting, more dear
Than aught that we ever have pictured here.
Oh, tremble we not! Be it only our care
To be clad in the robe that the ransomed wear!
To find it like others that are earth-born?
Will its glory grow pale like the sunset-glow?
May we only in fancy that rapture know?
Oh! tremble we not, though the morn shall break,
And we from our dream of delight shall wake;
'Twill be but to find that the shades have fled,
And the substance of glory is left instead,
And more bright will it be, more enchanting, more dear
Than aught that we ever have pictured here.
Oh, tremble we not! Be it only our care
To be clad in the robe that the ransomed wear!
