And the smiles that succeed are so dazzling and bright,
That none but a spirit could dwell in their light;
Oh! not like the smiles that here glow on the cheek;
But to hide the deep anguish no language can speak.
"In heaven there's rest!" earth's happiest hour
Fades softly away like a morning flower!
There, fadeless the bowers, unclouded the skies
There, joy hath no end, and time never flies;
There, nature is freed from its earliest stain;
There, love hath no sorrow, and life hath no pain.
"In heaven there's rest," Oh! how deep that repose!
Life's bitterness passed, with its follies and woes;
Its passions all hushed, like the waves of the deep,
When tempests expire, and winds are asleep,
And only soft airs and sweet odours arise,
Like the evening incense that soars to the skies.
Those sounds breathe sweet music, “in heaven there's rest!"
I long to escape to that land of the blessed,
Inspired by the prospect through life's busy day,
To act and to suffer, to watch and to pray;
Then gladly exchange when the summons is given,
The tumults of earth for the calmness of heaven.
CHILD of sorrow,-bending 'neath the blow
Of secret anguish,-thou whose heart is lone;
Thine elder brother shares with thee this heavy woe,
Jesus, the God-Man every pang has known.
The cross He sent; to gently lure thy heart
In safety to the Fatherland above;
These severed links-'twas hard for them to part,
But faith says low-"the trial came in love."
And when you stand in glory on that shore
Gazing in rapture o'er the crystal sea;
While as you gaze-shines forth more and more,
The love that God has shewn for thee.
Then shalt thou see how all this grief and pain,
These light afflictions-only for a day;
Together worked for good in the great chain
Of Love, which ne'er can pass away.
CONSOLATION.
WHEN wearied with the cares of life,
And the cross seems hard to bear;
Amidst the tumult and the strife,
Oh! let our refuge then be prayer.
"Wait on the Lord," and trust Him still,
Though dark and dreary be the road;
Pray in submission to His will
That He will gently lift the load.
And oh! forget not Jesu's love,
His sympathy is ever near;
Thine elder brother is above,
And heeds each sigh and bitter tear.
And when in secret bending low,
Nigh crushed beneath thy load of care; With griefs those round thee may not know, A dart thy bosom friend can't share.
To Jesus then-pour out thy soul,
Trust Him with all this weight of grief;
When storms arise He can control,
And give the aching heart relief.
SAVIOUR, I come to Thee,
A weary child, with pain and care opprest;
O let me lean this aching burdened heart
Upon Thy loving breast!
The way is very dark;
I cannot see it, Lord, through these my tears; Take Thou my hand, and draw me up to Thee Through all the lonely years.
I have no strength, dear Lord;
Oh let me lie where I can kiss Thy feet,
And look up from the dust into Thine eyes
That are so true and sweet!
And come, oh come to me,
And raise me to Thine arms, and teach me there The strange, deep secrets of Thy love, and bend To listen this my prayer.
Speak to me soft and low.
My spirit yearneth for one little word
To cheer the still, sad silence of my life;
One word from Thee, my Lord!
Speak to me, O my God!
There are sweet voices falling on mine ear, Long known, long loved, but in my inmost soul
Their tones I cannot hear.
But Thou wilt speak to me;
And, as the river falls into the sea,
And sinks to sleep, so this my wearied heart
Shall find its rest in Thee.
AFTER DEATH.
OH where exists the spirit world
Which we must some day surely see?
Oh, where abides the Paradise
In which no death can be.
That mystic, solemn, sacred world
Where every eye is free from tears;
And every hand is true and good,
No fallings and no fears?
The world where we may hold for aye
Treasures far dearer than we lost;
Live on in blithe eternal peace,
Be no more tempest tost?
Will there be tranquil meadow trees,
Broad-bowering in their leafy calm?
And gentle winds that sleep through noon,
And wake for evening psalm ?
Will there be sunshine on vast hills,
And rivers in the spreading vales,
And wealth of flowers, and dewy leaves,
Where flute the nightingales?
Will there be gardens whose sweet fruit
Ripens and reddens all the day,
And homes where clustering roses cling,
And do not fade away?
We know not. But the weary fight
Is over when that life shall be,
And changed the aching of the soul
To calm felicity.
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