A MYSTERY.
Is there a hell? where black-browed spirits reign, Whose atmosphere is smoke and fire;Where tortured souls do writhe in pain, 'Mid fumes of brimstone, dark and dire.Where light nor sound can never reach, Nor voice of mercy pierce the depths profound,Where devils hold their carnivals, O'er fallen souls chained down.
Must the undying, and immortal soul, That glorious map, of mind and thought,Planned by the Architect of light, By whose great hand was wrought,Each latent power of heart and brain, That, guided by great Will,Did fill Earth's limitless domain, With triumphs of inventive skill.
Be lost forever? though the knee, Bow not in church, or shrine,Though not in vaulted priestly hall, Filled with the organ's chime,
