There are saints from unnumbered planets,
Where they lived in a million ways.
Now they mingle in perfect glory,
Through the length of eternal days.
There the poor are wealthy forever,
For the beggar sits down with the King.
The man who never knew music
Will vie with angels to sing.
Here the hopeful student, progressing,
After failing does often grieve;
But in Heaven each lesson is perfect,
No theory to blind or deceive.
Here the runner, in breathless struggle,
Sees the other in touch of the goal;
But Heaven gives each one the laurel,
To be crowned while the ages roll.
There they have no light of a candle,
For there are no shadows of night.
There the flash of unnumbered opals
Sparkles on in their wealth of light.
In that home-like palace of Heaven,
Where these myriad trillions are,
There the Lord is the self-same Master,
And Love is the self-same star.