I Go to life and not to death;
From darkness to life's native sky;
I go from sickness and from pain
To health and immortality.

Let our farewell, then, be tearless,
Since I bid farewell to tears;
Write this day of my departure
Festive in your coming years.
I go from poverty to wealth,

From rags to raiment angel-fair,
From the pale leanness of this flesh
To beauty such as saints shall wear.

I go from chains to liberty,

These fetters will be broken soon; Forth over Eden's fragrant fields

I walk beneath a glorious noon.

For toil there comes the crowned rest;
Instead of burdens, eagles' wings;
And I, ev'n I, this life-long thirst

Shall quench at everlasting springs.
God lives! Who says that I must die?
I cannot, while Jehovah liveth!
Christ lives! I cannot die, but live;
He life to me for ever giveth.-Bonar.

695. DEATH: God's angel.

Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, Pass'd o'er the village as the morning broke;

The dawn was on their faces, and beneath-
The sombre houses, hearsed with plumes of smoke.
Their attitude and aspect was the same,

Alike their features, and their robes of white;
But one was crown'd with amaranth as a flame,
And one with asphodels like flakes of light.

I saw them pause on their celestial way;
Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppress'd,
'Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray
The place where thy beloved are at rest!'
And he who wore the crown of asphodels,
Descending at my door, began to knock ;
And my soul sank within me, as in wells
The water sinks, before an earthquake's shock.

I recognized the nameless agony,

The terror, and the tremor, and the pain,

That oft before had fill'd and haunted me,

And now return'd with threefold strength again. The door I open'd to my heavenly guest,

And listen'd, for I thought I heard God's voice; And, knowing whatsoe'er He sent was best, Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice.

Then, with a smile that fill'd the house with light, 'My errand is not death, but life,' he said; And, ere I answer'd, passing out of sight,

On his celestial embassy he sped.

'Twas at thy door, O friend, and not at mine,
The angel with the amaranthine wreath,
Pausing, descended, and, with voice divine,
Whisper'd a word that had a sound like 'death.'

Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom,
A shadow on those features fair and thin,
And, softly from the hush'd and darken'd room,
Two angels issued, where but one went in.

All is of God! if He but wave His hand,

The mists collect, the rains fall thick and loud, Till, with a smile of light on sea and land,

Lo! He looks back from the departing cloud.

Angels of Life and Death alike are His;
Without His leave they pass no threshold o'er;
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this,
Against His messenger to shut the door?

696. DEATH. Heathen view of

Longfellow.

WHAT has this bugbear Death to frighten men,
If souls can die as well as bodies can?
For, as before our birth we felt no pain,
When Punic arms infested land and main,

When heaven and earth were in confusion hurl'd,
For the debated empire of the world,
Which awed with dreadful expectation lay,
Sure to be slaves, uncertain who should sway;
So, when our mortal frame shall be disjoin'd,
The lifeless lump uncoupled from the mind,
From sense of grief and pain we shall be free;
We shall not feel, because we shall not be.
Lucretius, tr. by John Dryden.

697. DEATH. Hope in

THERE came a little child, with sunny hair,

All fearless to the brink of death's dark river,

And with a sweet confiding in the care

Of Him who is of life the joy and giver ; And as upon the waves she left our sight,

We heard her say, 'My Saviour makes them bright.'

Next came a youth, with bearing most serene,

Nor turn'd a single backward look of sadness ; But as he left each gay and flowery scene,

Smiling declared, 'My soul is thrill'd with gladness;

What earth deems bright, for ever I resign,
Joyful but this to know, that Christ is mine!'

An aged mourner, trembling, totter'd by,

And paused a moment by the swelling river;
Then glided on beneath the shadowy sky,
Singing, Christ Jesus is my strength for ever:
Upon His arm my feeble soul I lean;
My glance meets His without a space between.'

And scarce her last triumphant note had died,
Ere hasten'd on a man of wealth and learning,
Who cast at once his bright renown aside,

These only words unto his friends returning :
'Christ for my wisdom thankfully I own,
And as a little child I seek His throne.'

Then saw I this-that, whether guileless child,
Or youth, or age, or genius, won salvation,
Each self-renouncing came; on each God smiled;
Each found the love of Christ rich compensation
For loss of friends-earth's pleasures and renown;
Each enter'd heaven, and by His side sat down.'

698. DEATH: how soon its lessons are forgotten.

WE bleed, we tremble-we forget, we smile.
The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry.

Our quick returning folly cancels all

As the tide rushing razes what is writ
In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore.

699. DEATH: how the fear of it is to be over

come.

THERE are who tell me I should be

So firm of faith, so void of fear, So fill'd with calm, courageous cheer (Assured through Christ's security There is a place prepared), that I Should dare not be afraid to die.

They question of the nameless dread
With lifted brow, as if I let
Untoward human weakness fret
My spirit overmuch, and tread

Through even sunshine paths beneath
The ever conscious chill of death.

They talk about the fuller life,

Ungarmented of clinging clay; And marvel I should care to stay 'Mid the distraction and the strife That rasp the flesh and blur the eyeSince only they are safe who die.

Who calls it cowardice to shrink

Before the avouchment that not one

Of all time's myriad myriads-none Whose feet have cross'd the fatal brinkHas ever come to breathe life's breath Again, and tell us what is death?

We know that into outmost space,

Snatch'd sheer of earth, the spirit goes, Alone, stark, silent. But who knows The awful whitherward?-the place

That never any mortal eye

Had glimpse of, into which we die?

Who knows? God only. On His word
I wholly rest, I solely lean-
The single voice that sounds between
Th' eternities! No ear hath heard
One whisper else, one faintest breath,
That hath reveal'd the why of death.

I think of all who've pass'd the strife-
Wan women, who have fail'd to face
With bravery of timorous grace

The daily apprehensive life

Who yet, with passionate arms stretch'd high, Through ecstasy, could smile and die.

Sweet, tender children, who would scare

To walk beneath the dark alone,

With none whose hand might hold their own, Who've met the Terror unaware,

And call'd it, with their passing breath,

And I am comforted. Because

The grace that bore these tremblers through Can fold its strength about me too, And show me that my quailing was, As theirs, a phantom that will fly, Dawn-smitten, when I come to die. Hope, a fair vision, calm and bright,

Points where my risen Lord hath lain; And Faith accepts His bitter pain (My other angel clothed in white ! ), As borne for love of me, and saith: 'Behold! He slays the slayer, Death!' Therefore I cleave with simple trust,

Amid my griefs, amid my fears,
Through the procession of my years,
The years that bear me back to dust,

And cry: Ah! Christ, if Thou be nigh,
I shall be strong and glad to die.'

Bare all he could endure,

And bare not always well:
But he may smile at troubles gone,
Who sets the victor-garland on!

No more the foe can harm!
No more of leaguer'd camp,
And cry of night-alarm,

And need of ready lamp:
And yet how nearly he had fail'd!
How nearly had that foe prevail'd!

The lamb is in the fold,

In perfect safety penn'd;
The lion once had hold,

And thought to make an end:
But One came by with wounded side,
And for the sheep the Shepherd died!

The exile is at home!

O nights and days of tears!

O longings not to roam !

O sins and doubts and fears! What matter now, when, so men say, The King has wiped those tears away!

O happy, happy bride!

Thy widow'd hours are past, The Bridegroom at thy side, Thou all His own at last! The sorrows of thy former cup

In full fruition swallow'd up!

St Joseph of the Studium, tr. by J. M. Neale.

703. DEATH: is release.

IF one had watch'd a prisoner many a year,
Standing behind a barred window-pane,
Fetter'd with heavy handcuff and with chain,
And gazing on the blue sky, far and clear;
And suddenly some morning he should hear

The man had in the night contrived to gain
His freedom, and was safe, would this bring pain?
Ah! would it not to dullest heart appear
Good tidings?

Yesterday I look'd on one
Who lay as if asleep in perfect peace.
His long imprisonment for life was done.
Eternity's great freedom his, release

Had brought. Yet they who loved him call'd him dead,

And wept, refusing to be comforted.-Helen Hunt.

704. DEATH: its approach.

I FEEL death rising higher still, and higher Within my bosom; every breath I fetch

Shuts up my life within a shorter compass:
And, like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less
And less each pulse, till it be lost in air. -Dryden.

705. DEATH: its period uncertain.

LEAVES have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set—but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

Day is for mortal care,

Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth,
Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer,-
But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth.

The banquet hath its hour,

Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine;
There comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming power,
A time of softer tears-but all are thine.

Youth and the opening rose

May look like things too glorious for decay,

And smile at thee; but thou art not of those That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey.

We know when moons shall wane, When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When Autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain; But who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Mrs Hemans.

706. DEATH: its place and period uncertain.

THOU inevitable day,

When a voice to me shall say,
'Thou must rise and come away;

'All thine other journeys past,
Gird thee, and make ready fast
For thy longest and thy last,'—

Day deep-hidden from our sight
In impenetrable night,
Who may guess of thee aright?

Art thou distant, art thou near?
Wilt thou seem more dark or clear?
Day with more of hope or fear?

Wilt thou come, not seen before
Thou art standing at the door,
Saying,-light and life are o'er?
Or with such a gradual pace,
As shall leave me largest space
To regard thee face to face?

Shall I lay my drooping head
On some loved lap; round my bed
Prayer be made, and tears be shed?

Or at distance from mine own,
Name and kin alike unknown,
Make my solitary moan?

Will there yet be things to leave,
Hearts to which this heart must cleave,
From which, parting, it must grieve?

Or shall life's best ties be o'er,
And all loved things gone before
To that other happier shore?

Shall I gently fall on sleep,
Death, like slumber, o'er me creep,
Like a slumber sweet and deep?

Or the soul long strive in vain
To get free, with toil and pain,
From its half-divided chain?

Little skills it where or how, If thou comest then or now, With a smooth or angry brow.

Come thou must, and we must die:

Jesus, Saviour, stand Thou by,

When that last sleep seals our eye.—Trench.

707. DEATH: its power.

By thee high thrones to earth are flung

By thee the sword and sceptre rust— By thee the beautiful and young

Lie mouldering in the dust. Into thy cold and faded reign

All glorious things of earth depart ;

The fairest forms are early slain,

And quench'd the fiery heart.-Colton.

708. DEATH: may come without warning.

THEY tell me a solemn story, but it is not sad to me, For in its sweet unfolding my Saviour's love I see ; They say that, at any moment, the Lord of life may

come,

To lift me from this cloud-land into the light of home.

They say I may have no warning; I may not even

hear

The rustling of His garments as He softly draweth

near;

Suddenly, in a moment, upon my ear may fall
The summons to leave our homestead, to answer the
Master's call.

Perhaps He will come in the noontide of some bright and sunny day,

When, with dear ones all around me, my life seems bright and gay.