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| I WOULD not live alway—live alway below! | |
| Oh no, I ’ll not linger when bidden to go: | |
| The days of our pilgrimage granted us here | |
| Are enough for life’s woes, full enough for its cheer: | |
| Would I shrink from the path which the prophets of God, | 5 |
| Apostles, and martyrs, so joyfully trod? | |
| Like a spirit unblest, o’er the earth would I roam, | |
| While brethren and friends are all hastening home? | |
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| I would not live alway: I ask not to stay | |
| Where storm after storm rises dark o’er the way; | 10 |
| Where seeking for rest we but hover around, | |
| Like the patriarch’s bird, and no resting is found; | |
| Where Hope, when she paints her gay bow in the air, | |
| Leaves its brilliance to fade in the night of despair, | |
| And joy’s fleeting angel ne’er sheds a glad ray, | 15 |
| Save the gleam of the plumage that bears him away. | |
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| I would not live alway—thus fettered by sin, | |
| Temptation without and corruption within; | |
| In a moment of strength if I sever the chain, | |
| Scarce the victory ’s mine, ere I ’m captive again; | 20 |
| E’en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears, | |
| And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears: | |
| The festival trump calls for jubilant songs, | |
| But my spirit her own miserere prolongs. | |
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| I would not live alway—no, welcome the tomb, | 25 |
| Since Jesus hath lain there I dread not its gloom; | |
| Where he deigned to sleep, I ’ll too bow my head, | |
| All peaceful to slumber on that hallowed bed. | |
| Then the glorious daybreak, to follow that night, | |
| The orient gleam of the angels of light, | 30 |
| With their clarion call for the sleepers to rise | |
| And chant forth their matins, away to the skies. | |
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| Who, who would live alway? away from his God, | |
| Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, | |
| Where the rivers of pleasure flow o’er the bright plains, | 35 |
| And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; | |
| Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, | |
| Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet, | |
| While the songs of salvation exultingly roll | |
| And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul. | 40 |
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| That heavenly music! what is it I hear? | |
| The notes of the harpers ring sweet in mine ear! | |
| And see, soft unfolding those portals of gold, | |
| The King all arrayed in his beauty behold! | |
| Oh give me, oh give me, the wings of a dove, | 45 |
| To adore him—be near him—enwrapt with his love; | |
| I but wait for the summons, I list for the word— | |
| Alleluia—Amen—evermore with the Lord! | |
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