HEAVEN. THERE is a world we have not seen, There is a region lovelier far There is a world—and O, how blest! And never did an angel guest One half its blessedness unfold: It is all holy and serene, The land of glory and repose; And there to dim the radiant scene, The tear of sorrow never flows. It is not fanned by summer gale, It never needs the moon-beam pale, For there are known no evening hours: No: for this world is ever bright With a pure radiance all its own; The streams of uncreated light Flow round it from the Eternal Throne There, forms that mortals may not see, Too glorious for the eye to trace, And clad in peerless majesty, Move with unutterable grace. "Go, chase him out. Look! here he comes, Now on my bed he wants to stay; He shant be there. Oh God! oh God! close it tight: Say, don't you hear my wild alarms? I'll die; "Fire! water! help! come, haste The smoke — I'm choking—cannot cry ; But see! again that demon's come; How fierce he grins! what brought him back? OH, water for me, bright water for me — It maketh the faint one strong again : It comes o'er the sense like a breeze from the sea, So water for me, bright water for me- Fill to the brim, fill, fill to the brim, For I, like the flowers, drink nothing but dew. - O water, bright water's a mine of wealth, Fill again to the brim, again to the brim, When o'er the hills like a gladsome bride, Brushing the dew from the nodding flowers; As he freshens his wing in the cold grey cloud. But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew, Her dusky meshes o'er land and sea, How gently, O sleep, fall thy poppies on me! JOHNSON. |