Far off I seem to see thee stand,
Shading rapt eyes with radiant hand,
To scan that unknown glorious land.
The glory of that unseen place,
Gathers and brightens o'er thy face,
And fills thy looks with tender grace.
O, Hope divine '—I would behold
Those shining spires, those streets of gold:
But ah! the waves are deadly cold!
I hear the thunder and the sweep
Of waves; deep calleth unto deep;
The pathway ends, abrupt and steep.
Yet, soft beside that solemn shore,
I hear thy voice above its roar:
"Life is a dream-and it is o'er;
"The night is past—behold the day,
O new-born soul—O child of clay,
O bird uncaged and still astray;
"Take through the universe thy road;
All paths lead up to His abode,
Converging at the Mount of God!"
IN THE COUNTRY.
Here the sunshine, filtering down,
Through leaves of emerald, dun and brown,
Is green instead of golden
And the hum and roar of the distant town
In an endless hush is holden.
Twinkling bright through the shadowing limes.
The brook rains a sparkle of silver rhymes
On the dragon-fly, its neighbour;
It pays no duty in dollars and dimes,
For its work is all love-labour.