Thou whisperest some pleasant word, From every mountain's rugged peak, And from its fields of fadeless bloom, There peaceful hills and holy vales While rivers, deep and silent, glide There He abides, who is of Heaven, The pillow of His breast! The Heavenly Temple. FIND a beautiful description of the heavenly state in the statement of St. John, that he saw no temple there. It tells me there is no keeping of the earthly Sabbath, for all its days alike are holiness to the Lord; and telling me this, it also tells me that if once admitted within the gates of pearl, and privileged to tread the streets of gold, I shall be free from remainder of corruption; I shall no longer need external ordinances to remind me of my allegiance, and strengthen me for conflict; but that, made equal to the angels, I shall love God without wavering, and serve God without weariness. Therefore, however a human pencil, striving to delineate the heavenly Jerusalem, might have intermingled sanctuaries and palaces; and crowned the city with that diadem of towers which tells of dwelling-places, reared for Him whom the universe cannot contain; there is more, far more, to me in the total want of sacred architecture, 1 than in the rich profusion of dome and steeple with which man would have crested the heavenly metropolis. And though poetry, if bidden to pour its melodies on the home of the saints, might have drawn its imagery from what is most celestial on earth, and have spoken of the courts of the Lord's house, and the tabernacles crowned with the mystic insignia of a present Deity-nothing could have been so eloquent to me of the deep tranquillities and purities of heaven, and nothing could have so told me of one uniform, cloudless, blessed Sabbath, as the simple announcement of St. John, "And I saw no temple there." MELVILLE. The Departed One. PEAK to us; thou art laid So calmly out to slumber, we might deem Thee smiling in some bright and happy dream: With youth and joyance on thy radiant brow? The earth was bright to thee; Thou look'dst upon its sunshine and its flowers, Of joy and sorrow it was thine to know; A woman's soul was thine, And woman's nature on thy brow was seal'd; The countless treasures of affection's might, And changeless truth, unscathed by earthly blight. Still shedding a soft spell O'er the sweet sanctuary of hearth and home, Amid thy cherished—a fair form of light, Thou restest now: the rush, The strife of being, are forever past; Of holy rapture and adoring love Farewell, farewell! thy voice From earth hath parted, and its music deep Hath mingled with the lays that melt and steep In rapturous joys "Seraphic legions." Be it ours to dwell E'er with thee on that shore.-Farewell, farewell. |