Still heart, that ached and throbb'd with human passion,
Locks, white with snow of many a winter past,
Tired body, weary after earth's poor fashion,
Sleep calmly till the waking trumpet blast—
In cœlo quies.
All over now—the heart-ache and the burning
Of thoughts, so trammelled by this "mortal coil;"
The soul has cast behind its moans and yearning,
The hands are resting from the long life's toil,—
In cœlo quies.
I, mournful gazer, watching by the portal
Whence thou, from death to life, hast entered in,
Would fain catch one stray gleam of light immortal,
To tell me, ever drowning earth's wild din,
In cœlo quies.
I might not hear the angel welcome ringing,
Nor see the pearly portals open wide,
Wherein the ransomed band, the new song singing,
In white robes wander by life's river side,
In cœlo quies.
"In cœlo quies," while the storms are beating
Along earth's desert moorlands, wild and wide;
While skies shall lower, and angry waves are meeting
Thy bark is moored—thou art beyond the tide,
In cœlo quies.
"In cœlo quies"—Rest, pure, deep, eternal,
Peace, in a perfect, blissful, endless calm;
Charmed by the beatific joys supernal,
Lull'd by the melody of seraph's psalm,
In cœlo quies.
Here, we but dream it all—the rest—the glory,
Here we but yearn for it in sob and pain;
Till knees wax weary and till locks grow hoary,
Still "westward journeying," at length to gain,
In cœlo quies.
But thou mayest sleep; thy toilsome warfare ended,
The long, rough life-path has been nobly trod,
And with our lost ones, thou sweet songs hast blended,
To hail them found, beside the throne of God?
In cœlo quies.
LIGHT AT EVENTIDE.
Round us in the stillness spreading,
Comes the night.
Mortal ears can't hear the treading
Of her footsteps, soft and light.