| |
| IF yon bright stars which gem the night | |
| Be each a blissful dwelling-sphere | |
| Where kindred spirits reunite | |
| Whom death hath torn asunder here,— | |
| How sweet it were at once to die, | 5 |
| To leave this blighted orb afar! | |
| Mixt soul and soul to cleave the sky, | |
| And soar away from star to star. | |
| |
| But oh, how dark, how drear, how lone, | |
| Would seem the brightest world of bliss, | 10 |
| If, wandering through each radiant one, | |
| We failed to meet the loved of this! | |
| If there no more the ties shall twine | |
| Which death’s cold hand alone could sever, | |
| Ah, would those stars in mockery shine, | 15 |
| More joyless, as they shine forever! | |
| |
| It cannot be,—each hope, each fear | |
| That lights the eye or clouds the brow, | |
| Proclaims there is a happier sphere | |
| Than this bleak world that holds us now. | 20 |
| There, Lord, thy wayworn saints shall find | |
| The bliss for which they longed before; | |
| And holiest sympathies shall bind | |
| Thine own to thee forevermore. | |
| |
| O Jesus, bring us to that rest, | 25 |
| Where all the ransomed shall be found, | |
| In thine eternal fulness blest, | |
| While ages roll their cycles round. | |
| |
