Poems About Heaven

As these white robes are soil’d and dark, To yonder shining ground;As this pale taper’s earthly spark, To yonder argent round;So shows my soul before the Lamb, My spirit before Thee;So in mine earthly house I am, To that I hope to be.Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far, Thro’ all yon starlight keen,Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors; The flashes come and go;All heaven bursts her starry floors, And strows her lights below,And deepens on and up! the gates Roll back, and far withinFor me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, To make me pure of sin.The sabbaths of Eternity, One sabbath deep and wide--A light upon the shining sea-- The Bridegroom with his bride!

Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past;Thy image at our last embrace; Ah! little thought we 't was our last!

Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene;The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray,--Till soon, too soon, the glowing west Proclaimed the speed of winged day.

Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, And fondly broods with miser care!Time but the impression stronger makes, As streams their channels deeper wear.My Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest?See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

But lying darkly between, Winding down through the night,Is the silent, unknown stream. That leads at last to the light.

Closer and closer my steps Come to the dread abysm:Closer Death to my lips Presses the awful chrism.

Oh, if my mortal feet Have almost gained the brink;If it be I am nearer home Even to-day than I think;

Father, perfect my trust; Let my spirit feel in death,That her feet are firmly set On the rock of a living faith!

The silence--awful, sweet, and calm-- They have no power to break;For mortal words are not for them To utter or partake.

So thin, so soft, so sweet they glide, So near to press they seem,--They seem to lull us to our rest, And melt into our dream.

And in the bush of rest they bring 'Tis easy now to seeHow lovely and how sweet a pass The hour of death may be.

To close the eye, and close the ear, Rapt in a trance of bliss,And gently dream in loving arms To swoon to that--from this.

Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, Scarce asking where we are,To feel all evil sink away, All sorrow and all care.

Sweet souls around us! watch us still, Press nearer to our side,Into our thoughts, into our prayers, With gentle helpings glide.

Let death between us be as naught, A dried and vanished stream;Your joy be the reality. Our suffering life the dream.

The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me;But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us(And that there is, all Nature cries aloudThrough all her works), he must delight in virtue;And that which he delights in must be happy.But when? or where? This world was made for Cæsar.I'm weary of conjectures,--this must end 'em.

(Laying his hand on his sword.)

Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,My bane and antidote, are both before me:This in a moment brings me to an end;But this informs me I shall never die.The soul, secured in her existence, smilesAt the drawn dagger, and defies its point.The stars shall fade away, the sun himselfGrow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,Unhurt amid the war of elements,The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds!

If in this bosom aught but thee Encroaching sought a boundless sway,Omniscience could the danger see, And Mercy look the cause away.

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain, Why drooping seek the dark recess?Shake off the melancholy chain, For God created all to bless.

But ah! my breast is human still; The rising sigh, the falling tear,My languid vitals' feeble rill, The sickness of my soul declare.

But yet, with fortitude resigned, I'll thank the inflicter of the blow;Forbid the sigh, compose my mind, Nor let the gush of misery flow.

The gloomy mantle of the night, Which on my sinking spirit steals,Will vanish at the morning light, Which God, my east, my sun, reveals.

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,And larger movements of the unfettered mind, Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?

The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore,And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last. Shall it expire with life, and be no more?

A happier lot than mine, and larger light, Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy willIn cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll;And wrath has left its scar--that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.

Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same belovèd name,The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?

Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, The wisdom that I learned so ill in this--The wisdom which is love--till I become Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?

Know'st thou some favored spot, Some island far away, Where weary man may find The bliss for which he sighs,-- Where sorrow never lives, And friendship never dies?The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,Stopped for awhile, and sighed to answer,--"No."

And thou, serenest moon, That, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, Asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy round Hast thou not seen some spot Where miserable man May find a happier lot?Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,And a voice, sweet but sad, responded,--"No."

Tell me, my secret soul, O, tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place From sorrow, sin, and death? Is there no happy spot Where mortals may be blest, Where grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest?Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,Waved their bright wings, and whispered,--"Yes, in heaven!"

Around that lonely man!Some had expired in fight,--the brandsStill rusted in their bony hands, In plague and famine some!Earth's cities had no sound nor tread;And ships were drifting with the dead To shores where all was dumb!

Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, With dauntless words and high,That shook the sear leaves from the wood, As if a storm passed by,Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun!Thy face is cold, thy race is run, 'Tis Mercy bids thee go;For thou ten thousand thousand yearsHast seen the tide of human tears, That shall no longer flow.

What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;And arts that made fire, flood, and earth The vassals of his will?Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,Thou dim, discrowned king of day; For all those trophied artsAnd triumphs that beneath thee sprang,Healed not a passion or a pang Entailed on human hearts.

Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of men.Nor with thy rising beams recall Life's tragedy again:Its piteous pageants bring not back,Nor waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe;Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred,Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe.

Even I am weary in yon skies To watch thy fading fire;Test of all sumless agonies, Behold not me expire.My lips, that speak thy dirge of death,--Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath To see thou shalt not boast.The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall,The majesty of darkness shall Receive my parting ghost!

This spirit shall return to Him Who gave its heavenly spark;Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim When thou thyself art dark!No! it shall live again, and shineIn bliss unknown to beams of thine, By Him recalled to breath,Who captive led captivity,Who robbed the grave of victory, And took the sting from death!

Go, Sun, while mercy holds me up On Nature's awful wasteTo drink this last and bitter cup Of grief that man shall taste,--Go, tell the night that hides thy face,Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, On earth's sepulchral clod,The darkening universe defyTo quench his immortality, Or shake his trust in God!

When the stars turn to watchers, and do sleep,Shall it appear,With the sweet fixedness of certain light,Down-shining on the shut eyes of the deep.

Vain, vain!Hopeless most idly then, shall he look forth,That mariner from his bark.Howe'er the northDoes raise his certain lamp, when tempests lower--He sees no more that perished light again!And gloomier grows the hourWhich may not, through the thick and crowding dark,Restore that lost and loved one to her tower.

He looks,--the shepherd of Chaldea's hillsTending his flocks,--And wonders the rich beacon does not blaze,Gladdening his gaze;--And from his dreary watch along the rocks,Guiding him safely home through perilous ways!Still wondering as the drowsy silence fillsThe sorrowful scene, and every hour distilsIts leaden dews.--How chafes he at the night,Still slow to bring the expected and sweet light,So natural to his sight!

And lone,Where its first splendors shone,Shall be that pleasant company of stars:How should they know that deathSuch perfect beauty mars?And like the earth, its crimson bloom and breath;Fallen from on high,Their lights grow blasted by its touch, and die!--All their concerted springs of harmonySnapped rudely, and the generous music gone.

A strain--a mellow strain--A wailing sweetness filled the sky;The stars, lamenting in unborrowed pain,That one of their selectest ones must die!Must vanish, when most lovely, from the rest!Alas! 'tis evermore our destiny,The hope, heart-cherished, is the soonest lost;The flower first budden, soonest feels the frost:Are not the shortest-lived still loveliest?And, like the pale star shooting down the sky,Look they not ever brightest when they flyThe desolate home they blessed?

Can speak, or think, or seeThat bright eternity,Where the great King's transparent throneIs of an entire jasper stone?There the eyeO' the chrysolite,And a skyOf diamonds, rubies, chrysoprase,--And above all thy holy face,--Makes an eternal charity.When thou thy jewels up dost bind, that dayRemember us, we pray,--That where the beryl lies,And the crystal 'bove the skies,There thou mayest appoint us placeWithin the brightness of thy face,--And our soulIn the scrollOf life and blissfulness enroll,That we may praise thee to eternity. Allelujah!

Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light, All rapture through and through, In God's most holy sight.

O Paradise, O Paradise, Wherefore doth death delay?--Bright death, that is the welcome dawn Of our eternal day; Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light, All rapture through and through, In God's most holy sight.

O Paradise, O Paradise, 'Tis weary waiting here;I long to be where Jesus is, To feel, to see him near; Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light, All rapture through and through, In God's most holy sight.

O Paradise, O Paradise, I want to sin no more,I want to be as pure on earth As on thy spotless shore; Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light, All rapture through and through, In God's most holy sight.

O Paradise, O Paradise, I greatly long to seeThe special place my dearest Lord Is destining for me; Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light, All rapture through and through, In God's most holy sight.

O Paradise, O Paradise, I feel 'twill not be long;Patience! I almost think I hear Faint fragments of thy song; Where loyal hearts and true Stand ever in the light, All rapture through and through, In God's most holy sight.

Arise, arise, good Christian, Let right to wrong succeed;Let penitential sorrow To heavenly gladness lead,--To the light that hath no evening, That knows nor moon nor sun,The light so new and golden, The light that is but one.

And when the Sole-Begotten Shall render up once moreThe kingdom to the Father, Whose own it was before,Then glory yet unheard of Shall shed abroad its ray,Resolving all enigmas, An endless Sabbath-day.

For thee, O dear, dear Country! Mine eyes their vigils keep;For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep.The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast,And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.

O one, O only Mansion! O Paradise of Joy,Where tears are ever banished, And smiles have no alloy!Beside thy living waters All plants are, great and small,The cedar of the forest, The hyssop of the wall;With jaspers glow thy bulwarks, Thy streets with emeralds blaze,The sardius and the topaz Unite in thee their rays;Thine ageless walls are bonded With amethyst unpriced;Thy Saints build up its fabric, And the corner-stone is Christ.

The Cross is all thy splendor, The Crucified thy praise;His laud and benediction Thy ransomed people raise:"Jesus, the gem of Beauty, True God and Man," they sing,"The never-failing Garden, The ever-golden Ring;The Door, the Pledge, the Husband, The Guardian of his Court;The Day-star of Salvation, The Porter and the Port!"

Thou hast no shore, fair ocean! Thou hast no time, bright day!Dear fountain of refreshment To pilgrims far away!Upon the Rock of Ages They raise thy holy tower;Thine is the victor's laurel, And thine the golden dower!

Thou feel'st in mystic rapture, O Bride that know'st no guile,The Prince's sweetest kisses, The Prince's loveliest smile;Unfading lilies, bracelets Of living pearl thine own;The Lamb is ever near thee, The Bridegroom thine alone.The Crown is he to guerdon, The Buckler to protect,And he himself the Mansion, And he the Architect.

The only art thou needest-- Thanksgiving for thy lot;The only joy thou seekest-- The Life where Death is not.And all thine endless leisure, In sweetest accents, singsThe ill that was thy merit, The wealth that is thy King's!

Jerusalem the golden, With milk and honey blest,Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed.I know not, O I know not, What social joys are there!What radiancy of glory, What light beyond compare!

And when I fain would sing them, My spirit fails and faints;And vainly would it image The assembly of the Saints.

They stand, those halls of Zion, Conjubilant with song,And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng;The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene;The pastures of the Blessèd Are decked in glorious sheen.

There is the Throne of David, And there, from care released,The song of them that triumph, The shout of them that feast;And they who, with their Leader, Have conquered in the fight,Forever and forever Are clad in robes of white!

O holy, placid harp-notes Of that eternal hymn!O sacred, sweet reflection, And peace of Seraphim!O thirst, forever ardent, Yet evermore content!O true peculiar vision Of God cunctipotent!Ye know the many mansions For many a glorious name,And divers retributions That divers merits claim;For midst the constellations That deck our earthly sky,This star than that is brighter-- And so it is on high.

Jerusalem the glorious! The glory of the Elect!O dear and future vision That eager hearts expect!Even now by faith I see thee, Even here thy walls discern;To thee my thoughts are kindled, And strive, and pant, and yearn.

Jerusalem the only, That look'st from heaven below,In thee is all my glory, In me is all my woe;And though my body may not, My spirit seeks thee fain,Till flesh and earth return me To earth and flesh again.

O none can tell thy bulwarks, How gloriously they rise!O none can tell thy capitals Of beautiful device!Thy loveliness oppresses All human thought and heart;And none, O peace, O Zion, Can sing thee as thou art!

New mansion of new people, Whom God's own love and lightPromote, increase, make holy, Identify, unite!Thou City of the Angels! Thou City of the Lord!Whose everlasting music Is the glorious decachord!

And there the band of Prophets United praise ascribes,And there the twelvefold chorus Of Israel's ransomed tribes.The lily-beds of virgins, The roses' martyr-glow,The cohort of the Fathers Who kept the faith below.

And there the Sole-Begotten Is Lord in regal state,--He, Judah's mystic Lion, He, Lamb Immaculate.O fields that know no sorrow! O state that fears no strife!O princely bowers! O land of flowers! O realm and home of Life!

Jerusalem, exulting On that securest shore,I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee, And love thee evermore!I ask not for my merit, I seek not to denyMy merit is destruction, A child of wrath am I;But yet with faith I venture And hope upon my way;For those perennial guerdons I labor night and day.

The best and dearest Father, Who made me and who saved,Bore with me in defilement, And from defilement laved,When in his strength I struggle, For very joy I leap,When in my sin I totter, I weep, or try to weep:Then grace, sweet grace celestial, Shall all its love display,And David's Royal Fountain Purge every sin away.

O mine, my golden Zion! O lovelier far than gold,With laurel-girt battalions, And safe victorious fold!O sweet and blessèd Country, Shall I ever see thy face?O sweet and blessèd Country, Shall I ever win thy grace?I have the hope within me To comfort and to bless!Shall I ever win the prize itself? O tell me, tell me, Yes!

Exult! O dust and ashes! The Lord shall be thy part;His only, his forever, Thou shalt be, and thou art!Exult, O dust and ashes! The Lord shall be thy part;His only, his forever, Thou shalt be, and thou art!

Noiselessly as daylightComes back when night is done,And the crimson streak on ocean's cheekGrows into the great sun;

Noiselessly as the spring-timeHer crown of verdure weaves,And all the trees on all the hillsUnfold their thousand leaves:So without sound of musicOr voice of them that wept,Silently down from the mountain's crownThe great procession swept.

Perchance the bald old eagleOn gray Beth-peor's heightOut of his rocky eyryLooked on the wondrous sight;Perchance the lion stalkingStill shuns that hallowed spot;For beast and bird have seen and heardThat which man knoweth not.

But, when the warrior dieth.His comrades of the war.With arms reversed and muffled drums,Follow the funeral car:They show the banners taken;They tell his battles won;And after him lead his masterless steed,While peals the minute-gun.

Amid the noblest of the landMen lay the sage to rest,And give the bard an honored place,With costly marbles drest,In the great minster transeptWhere lights like glories fall,And the sweet choir sings, and the organ ringsAlong the emblazoned hall.

This was the bravest warriorThat ever buckled sword;This the most gifted poetThat ever breathed a word;And never earth's philosopherTraced with his glorious penOn the deathless page truths half so sageAs he wrote down for men.

And had he not high honor?--The hillside for a pall!To lie in state while angels wait,With stars for tapers tall!And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes,Over his bier to wave,And God's own hand, in that lonely land,To lay him in his grave!--

In that strange grave without a name,Whence his uncoffined clayShall break again--O wondrous thought!--Before the judgment day,And stand, with glory wrapped aroundOn the hills he never trod,And speak of the strife that won our lifeWith the incarnate Son of God.

O lonely tomb in Moab's land!O dark Beth-peor's hill!Speak to these curious hearts of ours,And teach them to be still:God hath his mysteries of grace,Ways that we cannot tell,He hides them deep, like the secret sleepOf him he loved so well.

Ah! then my spirit faints To reach the land I love,The bright inheritance of saints, Jerusalem above!

Yet clouds will intervene, And all my prospect flies;Like Noah's dove, I flit between Rough seas and stormy skies.

Anon the clouds depart, The winds and waters cease;While sweetly o'er my gladdened heart Expands the bow of peace!

Beneath its glowing arch, Along the hallowed ground,I see cherubic armies march, A camp of fire around.

I hear at morn and even, At noon and midnight hour,The choral harmonies of heaven Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower.

Then, then I feel that he, Remembered or forgot,The Lord, is never far from me, Though I perceive him not.

In darkness as in light, Hidden alike from view,I sleep, I wake, as in his sight Who looks all nature through.

All that I am, have been, All that I yet may be,He sees at once, as he hath seen, And shall forever see.

"Forever with the Lord;" Father, if 'tis thy will,The promise of that faithful word Unto thy child fulfil!

So, when my latest breath Shall rend the veil in twain,By death I shall escape from death, And life eternal gain.

We see them--visions strange--amid the Nevermore.

The merrysome maiden used to sing--The brown, brown hair that once was wont to cling To temples long clay-cold: to the very core They strike our weary hearts, As some vexed memory starts From that long faded land--the realm of Nevermore.

It is perpetual summer there. But hereSadly may we remember rivers clear, And harebells quivering on the meadow-floor. For brighter bells and bluer, For tenderer hearts and truer People that happy land--the realm of Nevermore.

Upon the frontier of this shadowy landWe pilgrims of eternal sorrow stand: What realm lies forward, with its happier store Of forests green and deep, Of valleys hushed in sleep, And lakes most peaceful? 'Tis the land of Evermore.

Very far off its marble cities seem--Very far off--beyond our sensual dream-- Its woods, unruffled by the wild wind's roar; Yet does the turbulent surge Howl on its very verge. One moment--and we breathe within the Evermore.

They whom we loved and lost so long agoDwell in those cities, far from mortal woe-- Haunt those fresh woodlands, whence sweet carollings soar. Eternal peace have they; God wipes their tears away: They drink that river of life which flows from Evermore.

Thither we hasten through these regions dim,But, lo, the wide wings of the Seraphim Shine in the sunset! On that joyous shore Our lightened hearts shall know The life of long ago: The sorrow-burdened past shall fade for Evermore.