HEAVEN BRIGHTER THAN EARTH.
"Oh! make Heaven seem brighter than this world."
Dying words of the Rev. Mr. Bruen.
Those skies, no night that wear,
Nor cloud nor tempest know,
Those flowers no blight that bear,
Those streams that stainless flow—
Are they not brighter far
Than all that lures us here?
Where storms may fright each timid star
From Midnight's lonely sphere.
Here, Hope of sorrow drinks,
Here Beauty fades with care,
And Virtue from Temptation shrinks,
And Folly finds Despair;
But 'mid that world above
No baneful step may stray,
The white-winged seraph's glance of love
Would melt each ill away.
Friendship is there the guest
Of chilling doubt no more,
And Love, with thornless breast,
Whose pangs and fears are o'er:
There is no farewell sigh
Throughout that blessed clime,
No mourning voice, nor severed tie,
Nor change of hoary time.
Why plant the cypress near
The pillow of the just?
Why dew with murmuring tear
Their calm and holy dust?
Rear there the rose's pride,
Bid the young myrtle bloom,
Fit emblems of their joys who bide
Beyond the insatiate tomb.
'Mid that celestial place
Our soaring thoughts would glow,
Even while we run this pilgrim-race
Of weariness and woe;
For who would shrink from death
With sharp and icy hand,
Or heed the pangs of shortening breath,
To win that glorious land?