For none return from those quiet fhores,
Who cross with the boatman cold and pale ;
We hear the dip of the golden oars,
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,
And lo! they have paffed from our yearning heart;
They cross the ftream, and are gone for aye;
We may not sunder the veil apart,
That hides from our vifion the gates of day.
We only know that their barks no more
May sail with us o'er life's ftormy sea;
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen fhore,
They watch, and beckon, and wait for me.
And I fit and think, when the sunset's gold,
Is flushing river, and hill, and shore,
I fhall one day stand by the water cold,
And lift for the sound of the boatman's oar;
I fhall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail;
I fhall hear the boat as it gains the ftrand;
I shall pass from fight, with the boatman pale,
To the better fhore of the spirit land;
I fhall know the loved who have gone before,-
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,
When over the river, the peaceful river,
The Angel of Death fhall carry me.
RIEF life is here our portion, Brief sorrow, fhort-lived care; The life that knows no ending, The tearless life is there. Reward of grace how wondrous ! Short toil, eternal reft!
Oh! miracle of mercy,
That rebels fhould be bleft!
That we, with fin polluted,
Should have our home so high! That we fhould dwell in mafions
Beyond the starry sky!
And now we fight the battle,
And then we wear the crown
Of full and everlasting
And ever bright renown.
I know not, oh! I know not
What social joys are there;
What pure, unfading glory;
What light beyond compare ;
And when I fain would fing them,
My spirit fails and faints,
And vainly strives to image
The affembly of the saints.
There is the throne of David;
And there, from toil released,
The fhout of them that triumph,
The song of them that feaft!
O Garden free from sorrow!
O Plains that fear no ftrife!
O princely Bowers, all blooming!
O Realm and Home of life!
THOU, on earth beloved, adored, My friend, my father, and my Lord, I see thee now without a veil, Help; or my dazzled fight will fail. O bear me to that burning throne I scarce can brook to gaze upon,
And give my kindling soul to prove
The raptures of ecftatic love;
And learn unutterable lays,
And hymn thee in eternal praise!
Shrink like a scroll, thou frighted sky!
Earth tremble into vacancy!
List to the pealing trumpet's swell,
Ye hideous depths of death and hell,-
Burst your strong chain, your gates unclose,
And break the long- the last repose.
Bleft train of martyred saints, arise!
Look upward to your native skies!
Arise! and claim your rich reward,
And fhare the triumph of your Lord.
Behold the promised heavenly home,-
The conquering palm, the golden throne,-
And more than all, that beaming eye,
Whose glance is love and ecftacy!
But lo! what sudden splendors beaming,
O'er heaven's illumined arch are streaming;
What hues of varied beauty blending,
What fair celeftial towers descending!
O Salem, city of our God!
The saints' the martyrs' bleft abode,
I see thy gates of pearl unfold,
I see thy ftreets of burnished gold;
I see thy towers of cryftal fhine!
Meet temples for a King divine.
Hail perfect, pure in virgin pride!
The mighty Lamb's resplendent bride!
Within thy hallowed courts are found,
No lurking cares to vex or wound :
No dim eye sheds the hopeless tear,
No bosom throbs with doubt or fear ;
And hufhed is Shame's tumultuous thrill,
And Paffion's warring ftorm is ftill.
No bright sun beams by day, by night
No pale moon sheds her feebler light,-
But from that throne of living fire,
Where fits revealed the Eternal Sire,
Where seraphs raise their loudeft ftrain,
To hail the Lamb that once was flain,-
Though Faith and Hope have paffed away,
Love sheds a pure unchanging ray;
What faintly fhone on earth before,
Now beams and burns forevermore.
"ARK! hark! the voice of ceaseless praise,
Around Jehovah's throne;
Songs of celeftial joy they raise,
To mortal lips unknown.
Upon the sea of glass they stand,
In fhining robes of light;
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