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HE air of death breathes through our souls,
The dead all round us lie; 2 By day and night the death-bell tolls,
And says, “ Prepare to die ! ”
The face that in the morning sun
We thought so wondrous fair, Hath faded ere his course was run,
Beneath its golden hair.
I see the old man in his grave,
With thin locks silvery grey;
In the cold breath of clay.
The loving ones we loved the best,
Like music all are gone !
Their monumental stone.
But not when the death-prayer is said
The life of life departs ;
Its beauty in our hearts.
At holy midnight, voices sweet
Like fragrance fill the room,
Come brightning from the tomb.
We know who sends the visions bright,
From whose dear side they came !
We bless our Saviour's name!
This frame of dust, this feeble breath,
The plague may soon destroy:
A deep and awful joy.
Dim is the light of vanish'd years
In glory yet to come ;
When Jesus calls us home.
Like children for some bauble fair
themselves to rest,
The jewel in our breast !
HERE is light on the hills, and the valley is
Ascend, happy pilgrim! thy labours are o'er! The sunshine of heaven around thee is cast,
And thy weak, doubting footsteps can falter no
On, pilgrim—that hill richly circled with rays
Is Zion! Lo, there is “ the city of saints !” And the beauties, the glories, that region displays,
Inspiration's own language imperfectly paints.
But the gate of one pearl” to thee opened shall be,
And thou all its beauties and glories behold, The Saviour an entrance has purchased for thee,
And thy dwelling henceforth is the city of gold.
ADDRESS TO A DYING FRIEND.
The rustling of wings, when thou reachest the
gate, Will announce the glad angels, the sentinels
there : Knock, pilgrim! not long thou for entrance canst
wait, For spirits like thee to those angels are
And, perhaps, in the portal, the glorified
band Of kindred and friends long removed from thy
sight, Breathing welcomes and blessings around thee will
stand, Arrayed in their garments of heavenly light.
Transporting re-union! bright meed of all those
Who on earth bowed in meekness and faith to
Still thankful alike, if the thorn or the rose,