( Originally Published 1868 )
FROM THE GERMAN OF J. LANGE.
WHAT no human eye hath seen,
What no mortal ear hath heard,
What on thought hath never been
In her noblest flights conferred,
This hath God prepared in store
For his people evermore.
When the shaded pilgrim-land
Fades before my cosing eye,
Then, revealed on either hand,
Heaven"s own scenery shall lie ;
Then the veil of flesh shall fall,
Now concealing, dark'ning all.
Heavenly landscapes, calmly bright,
Life's pure river, murmuring ow,
Forms of oveliness and light
Lost to earth ong time ago,
Yes, my own, lamented long,
Shine amid the angel throng.
Many a joyful sight was given,
Many a lovely vision here,
Hill and vale, and starry even,
These were shadows sent in love,
Of realities above..
When upon my wearied ear,
Earth's last echoes faintly die,
Then shall angel harps draw near,
All the chorus of the sky ;
Long-hushed voices blend again
Sweetly in that welcome strain.
Here were sweet and varied tones,
Bird and breeze, and fountain's fall ;
Yet creation's travail groans,
Ever sadly sighed through all ;
There no discord jars the air
Harmony is perfect there !
When this aching heart shall rest,
All its busy pulses over,
From her mortal robes undrest
Shall my spirit upward soar ;
Then shall pure, unmingled joy
All my thoughts and powers employ.
Here devotion"s healing balm
Often came to soothe my breast ;
Hours of deep and holy calm,
Earnests of eternal rest;
But the bliss was here unknown
Which shall there be "all" my own.
Jesus reigns, the Life, the Sun,
Of that wondrous land above ;
All the clouds and storms are gone,
All is light, and all is love.
All the shadows melt away
In the blaze of perfect day.