Turn not away from her plea and her cries;
Pity and help, and the fallen may rise!
Crush not to earth the reed that is broken,
Bind up her wounds-let soft words be spoken;
Though she be low, though worldlings reject her,
Let not Humanity ever neglect her.
JOY BEYOND.
BEYOND the dark, deep grave, whose lowly portal
Must yet be passed by every living mortal,
There gleams a light;
'T is not of earth. It wavers not; it gloweth
With a clear radiance which no changing knoweth,
Constant and bright.
We love to gaze at it; we love to cherish
The cheering thought, that, when this earth shall perish,
And naught remain
Of all these temples,--things we now inherit,
Each unimprisoned, no more fettered spirit
Shall life retain.
And ever, through eternity unending,
It shall unto that changeless light be tending,
Till perfect day
Shall be its great reward; and all of mystery
That hath made up its earthly life, its history,
Be passed away!
O, joyous hour! O, day most good and glorious!
When from the earth the ransomed rise victorious,
Its conflict o'er;
When joy henceforth each grateful soul engages,
Joy unalloyed through never-ending ages,
Joy evermore!
THE SUMMER DAYS ARE COMING.
Pages:
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317