FOREVER with the Lord!
Amen, so let it be!
Life from the dead is in that word,
Here in the body pent,
Absent from Him I roam;
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home.
My Father's house on high,
Home of my soul, how near,
At times, to faith's foreseeing eye,
Thy golden gates appear!
Ah! then my spirit faints
To reach the land I love,
The bright inheritance of saints,
Jerusalem above.
Yet clouds will intervene,
And all my prospect flies;
Like Noah's dove, I flit between
Rough seas and stormy skies.
Forever with the Lord!
Father, if 'tis Thy will,
The promise of that faithful word
E'en here to me fulfil.
So when my latest breath
Shall rend the veil in twain, By death I shall escape from death, And life eternal gain.
Knowing as I am known,
How shall I love that word,
And oft repeat before the throne, "Forever with the Lord!"
James Montgomery.
ONCE in a dream I saw the flowers
That bud and bloom in Paradise;
More fair they are than waking eyes
Have seen in all this world of ours.
And faint the perfume-bearing rose,
And faint the lily on its stem,
And faint the perfect violet,
Compared with them.
I heard the songs of Paradise:
Each bird sat singing in his place;
A tender song so full of
grace,
It soared like incense to the skies.
Each bird sat singing to his mate,
Soft loving notes among the trees;
The nightingale herself were cold
To such as these.
I saw the fourfold river flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand:
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music, grave and low.
It hath refreshment for all thirst,
For fainting spirits strength and rest;
Earth holds not such a draught as this
From east to west.
The Tree of Life stood budding there,
Abundant with its twelvefold fruits;
Eternal sap sustains its roots,
Its shadowy branches fill the air.
Its leaves are healing for the world,
Its fruit the hungry world can feed,
Sweeter than honey to the taste,
And balm indeed.
I saw the gate called Beautiful;
And looked, but scarce could look within;
I saw the golden streets begin,
And outskirts of the glassy pool.
Oh harps, oh crowns of plenteous stars,
Oh green palm branches many-leaved—
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor heart conceived.
I hope to see these things again,
But not as once in dreams by night;
To see them with my very sight,
And touch and handle and attain;
To have all heaven beneath my feet
For narrow way that once they trod;
To have my part with all the saints,
And with my God.
Christina G. Rossetti.
|