As he beholds the glory of his Lord,
And looks within the pearly gates ajar,
Snaps, in an instant, life's frail brittle cord,
And he is where the holy angels are.
So is it, likewise, with most dying saints;
They see e'en here the beatific sight;
The spirit then breaks thro' this world's restraints,
And enters into heaven's effulgent light.
Not sorrow snaps the silver cord, but joy;
Not woe, but bliss, expands the golden bowl.