GLORY OF DEPARTED SAINTS.
“Absent from the body—present with the Lord.”
2 Cor. v. 8.
Hail to the bright and blissful Choir
Who wreathe the Saviour's throne!
Eternity hath strung their lyre,
And Glory gives the tone:
We mourn them not, we mourn them not,
Who crowd the halls of Heaven,
For theirs is now the pangless lot,
The smile of saints forgiven.
Through shades of wintry loneliness
While here our pathways wind
As orphans in the soul's distress
We seek some answ'ring mind,
Yet, proves it like some balmy dream
From heaven just floating down,
When round our yearning fancies beam
The lustres of their crown!
On this bad earth, like us, they knew
The with'ring curse of sin;
Or shudder'd o'er some hideous view
Of dawning hell within:
The wingèd thoughts which bravely soar'd
Beyond the realms of time,
Those deepest prayers that once ador'd
The King of Kings sublime,
What were they, in their rapt delight
Outsoaring all we feel,—
But bird-wings broken in their flight,
When storm-blasts round them wheel?
Upward and upward did they rise
From earth's pollution free,
Those Eagles of the Lord, whose eyes
Glow'd with eternity!
But oh, at best, they did but scan
Far off that living Sun,
By whose rich glory rescued Man
From darkness hath been won.
But now, the coil of earth removed,
No sins their conscience stain;
We call them dead,—but Their Beloved
Becomes a deathless gain.
They sun their souls in living rays,
His Form of glory darts,
While swells of superhuman praise
Heave from their burning hearts.
Then, who would call them back to earth
These holy Dead, on high?
No! rather let their peerless worth
Attract us to the sky:
Their task is o'er, their toil is done,
Embower'd in bliss they dwell,
And would we wear the crown they won?—
Then, let us fight as well!
Far better this, than mourn the dead
By selfish grief inspired;
Their path to glory may we tread,
By pure example fired:
So shall we reach our home at last,
Whate'er the wilds we trod,
And find the dead from earth who pass'd
Were still our friends in God.
