It was only a smile of welcome And a loving clasp of the hand, Yet it made the world an Eden To one who could understand.
It was only a word, low spoken, To a spirit burden cast, Yet the angels sang: “Good tidings,” For it saved a soul at last.
THE HOLY DREAM.
His reverend head was bowed upon his hands; When in the lamp-light, thro’ his study door, Sleep’s angel came, who wisely understands How burdened hearts can be revived once more.
The day, with all it’s quiet hours, was past; The sermon, that his weary brain prepared, Had, with a hopeful heart, been preached at last, And yet it seemed that not one listener cared.
Life’s crosses looked too great for him to bear, And Hope was crushed beneath his spirit’s weight; His soul, at last, had yielded to despair And prayed for freedom, ere it was too late.
The answer came, but not as he had prayed,— Life conquered death and sleep had mastered all; Like some fond mother gently now she stayed To soothe, and bless, and wake him at her call.
Sleeping he dreamed that, on her heavenly way, The angel Death had listened to his prayer, And led him upward to the endless day, Beyond the valley known as Heart’s Despair.
Above, the gates of Heaven were swinging wide, And he beheld the City of the King; His angel friends were standing close beside, Who, near the throne, the songs of Zion sing;