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The Choir and The Oratory

or Praise and Prayer. By Josiah Conder

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II.

Lo! again our eyes behold
Those mysterious gates unfold,
And, dear Child! the new-made tomb
Opens for thy youthful bloom.
Oh! to track the spirit's flight!
Yes, though hid from grosser sight,
Faith can scale thy path of light,
Up the' aërial stair that beamed
On the Patriarch as he dreamed,
Still by angel footsteps trod,
To the sapphire throne of God.
—With what strange, unearthly dread,
Though by angel convoys led,
Upward must the spirit press,
Disembodied consciousness!
With what transport, awful, new,
Hasten towards that interview!

237

Who of Adam's sinful race
May endure his God to face?
Though redeemed and sanctified,
Who that Living Light abide,
Which no mortal could sustain,
For which Moses asked in vain?
How shall even immortal eye
Bear the' unclouded majesty?
Lo! the opening heavens disclose
One the raptured spirit knows,
Though unlike the form He wore,
When his people's sins He bore,
Yet by love's strong instinct known,
'Mid the glories of the Throne.
And those angel-pinions fleet
Lay their burden at His feet.
Raised by His redeeming hand,
Now that sainted one can stand,
Happy 'mid that happy band;—
Led by Him, to God draw near,
Perfect love expelling fear.

238

Shame nor dread shall then alloy
That intense, exceeding joy.
Yes, that hour will heaven impart,
Lord! to see Thee as Thou art;
Changed by that transforming sight,
Kindling into love and light.
But what heavenly form shall dress
Then the' all-happy consciousness?
Or in what bright vehicle
Shall the sainted spirit dwell,
Till the Grave, its mortal coil,
Mingling with the faithful soil,
Chemist exquisite, prepare
For heaven's everlasting wear?
From the dust so springs the flower,
Sown in weakness, raised in power.
How the spirit shall be clad,
Whether in the shape she had,
Imaged in material lent
By some purer element;—
By what fine, instinctive ken,
Spirit shall know spirit then,

239

Holding, in mysterious union,
Sweet, ineffable communion;—
Matters not: enough is shown.
We shall know: we shall be known.
Not unsocial their employ,
Or the worship, or the joy,
Of the new-arrived in regions
Populous with blessed legions.
Soon the spirit feels her ties:
Tender thoughts to memory rise,
Unextinguished sympathies.
Happy in angelic care,
She has nearer kindred there,
And through every golden street,
Burns some dearer form to meet.
Is there one to whom on earth
Most she owed her second birth,—
One whose counsel, watching, prayers,
Sowed the seed which glory bears;—
Friend still closer than a brother,—
Mother who was more than mother;—

240

Surely to that mansion bright
Love will first direct her flight.
Oh the transports of that meeting,
Glad surprise, and rapturous greeting!
Those who last in sorrow parted;
Some whom death found broken-hearted;
Many a long-lost, rebel child,
Since brought home and reconciled;
Friends of youth, too early lost;
Some whose love the world had crossed;
There they meet, no more to sever;
Meet in bliss, and meet for ever!
Some remain as yet below,
Struggling in a world of woe;
But their names are there enrolled
As belonging to the Fold:
Sweet the thought!—their places wait:
They will not arrive too late.