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Heaven Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Lift Me Higher by Mary E. Tucker
  2. Athanasia by Anonymous
  3. The Waterfall by Hannah Flagg Gould
  4. Thoughts by Hannah Flagg Gould
  5. Evening Hymn by Anonymous
  6. This Beautiful Earth by Anonymous
  7. Peace by Amos Russel Wells
  8. Astra Castra by Emily Dickinson
  9. Suspense by Emily Dickinson
  10. Going to heaven! by Emily Dickinson
  11. I went to heaven, — by Emily Dickinson
  12. Is Heaven a physician? by Emily Dickinson
  13. Immortality by Emily Dickinson
  14. Joy in Death by Emily Dickinson
  15. This world is not conclusion by Emily Dickinson
  16. Rouge Gagne by Emily Dickinson
  17. Far From My Heavenly Home by Henry Frances Lyte
  18. The Choir Invisible by George Eliot
  19. Heaven by Rupert Brooke
  20. Heaven by Peter Burn
  21. No Lasting Joy Below by Phoebe Cary
  22. Life is Transient by Phoebe Cary
  23. Nearer Home by Phoebe Cary
  24. Heaven by William Henry Dawson
  25. Good Seed by Dudley Hughes Davis
  26. I Saw a Gate by James Russell Lowell
  27. Weariness by Mary E. Tucker
  28. Harmony and Heaven by Kate Louise Wheeler
  29. The Death of the Righteous by Lydia Sigourney
  30. The Golden Sunset by Samuel Longfellow
  31. The Gates of Zion by Anonymous
  32. Who has not found the heaven below by Emily Dickinson
  33. Upon Time and Eternity by John Bunyan
  34. Revelations 2:7 by Eliza Wolcott
  35. The Joy of Hope by Peter Burn
  36. Treasures in Heaven

  37. The Coronation by Hannah Flagg Gould
  38. Wrought Into Gold by Anonymous

  1. Lift Me Higher

    by Mary E. Tucker

    Lift me higher! Lift me higher!
    From this sphere of earthly dross;
    Upward still! far yonder gleaming
    Shines my Saviour's glorious cross.

    Oh, very beautiful is life,
    And earthly flowers are passing fair:
    But lift, oh lift me up to heaven,
    And let me rest forever there.

    There, no care shall plow its furrows;
    There, no sin shall blur my heart;
    There, in blessed choirs of angels
    I shall sing a humble part.

    Lift me higher! Lift me higher!
    Friends of earth, no tears for me!
    From temptation, sin, and sorrow,
    Let me be forever free!

    Ah! I hear my Saviour call me!
    Clad in heavenly robes of white;
    He will lift me higher, higher,
    From this world of storm and night.

    Lift me higher! Lift me higher!
    Farewell earthly friends I love.
    Lift me higher! Lift me higher!
    To that better world above!

    "Lift me higher!" And our darling
    Gently closed her wearied eyes;
    And her spirit, lifted higher,
    Reached its home beyond the skies.

    She is sleeping, and white marble
    This inscription only bears:
    "Our lost flower — thirteen summers —
    Lifted higher" — than life's cares.

  2. Athanasia

    by Amos Russel Wells

    No sunset fades; its palpitating glory
    Of blue and crimson never wholly dies
    But, in the joy of some remembered story,
    Glows to the welcome of immortal skies.

    No blossom perishes; with bloom unfading
    Its petals ope in everlasting light.
    Its infant amaranthine fragrance lading
    The breezes of celestial meadows bright.

    No music ceases; mystically holden,
    Deep in the heart of ether it abides,
    And will return to us the rapture olden
    Over the shining of eternal tides.

    No feeling dies, no sacred sweet emotion,
    No lover's kiss, no children's laugh, no prayer;
    All are a part of time's unending ocean.
    And we shall find them, some day surely there.

    What though our eyes, our ears, our dullard passion
    Follow them not to their abiding home!
    Soon will they glad us in familiar fashion
    When to their deathless mansions we have come.

  3. The Waterfall

    by Hannah Flagg Gould

    Ye mighty waters, that have joined your forces,
    Roaring and dashing with this awful sound,
    Here are ye mingled; but the distant sources
    Whence ye have issued, where shall they be found?

    Who may retrace the ways that ye have taken,
    Ye streams and drops? who separate you all,
    And find the many places ye've forsaken,
    To come and rush together down the fall?

    Through thousand, thousand paths have ye been roaming,
    In earth and air, who now each other urge
    To the last point! and then, so madly foaming,
    Leap down at once, from this stupendous verge.

    Some in the lowering cloud a while were centred,
    That in the stream beheld its sable face,
    And melted into tears, that falling entered
    With sister waters on the sudden race.

    Others, to light that beamed upon the fountain,
    Have from the vitals of the rock been freed,
    In silver threads, that, shining down the mountain,
    Twined off among the verdure of the mead.

    And many a flower that bowed beside the river,
    In opening beauty, ere the dew was dried,
    Shook by the breeze, has been an early giver
    Of her pure offering to the rolling tide.

    Thus from the veins, through earth's dark bosom pouring,
    Many have flowed in tributary streams;
    Some, in the bow that bent, the sun adoring,
    Have shone in colors borrowed from his beams.

    But He, who holds the ocean in the hollow
    Of his strong hand, can separate you all!
    His searching eye the secret way will follow,
    Of every drop that hurries to the fall!

    We are like you, in mighty torrents mingled,
    And speeding downward to one common home,
    Yet there's an eye that every drop hath singled,
    And marked the winding ways through which we come.

    Those who have here adored the Sun of heaven,
    And shown the world their brightness drawn from him,
    Again before him, though their hues be seven,
    Shall blend their beauty, never to grow dim.

    We bless the promise, as we thus are tending
    Down to the tomb, that gives us hope to rise,
    Before the Power to whom we now are bending,
    To stand his bow of glory in the skies!

  4. Thoughts

    by Hannah Flagg Gould

    Eyes, say, why were ye given your sight,
    Your full blue orbs, with their roll and their light,
    Which your lids of the lily with violet tinge
    So often of late, with their long, dark fringe
    From their folds in your arches descended to shade?
    Ye have told many things—but not why ye were made.

    "We were made to delight in the beauties of earth;
    Then to see how they perished, how little their worth
    They are changing, illusive, uncertain and brief,
    From the flower's opening bud to its soon withered leaf.
    The birth of their being is joined to decay;
    They flourish, allure, and expire in a day.
    On things like ourselves with delight we have shone;
    We have studied their language and found it our own;
    But the offspring of grief would extinguish their light,
    And the spoiler's pale hand lock them up from our sight.
    Or, keener, far keener, they'd let us behold
    Their looks turning from us, unfeeling and cold,
    Bequeathing this line, as we saw them depart,
    'We go not alone, but are drawn by the heart!'
    For things such as these, and still more were we made;
    For watching, for aching, to sink and to fade;
    To pour forth in silence the waters of sorrow,
    Then, to close in a night that will bring us no morrow?"

    And wherefore were you, ye thick locks, that were laid
    In the clustering curls, or the bright sunny braid?

    "To shine in our pride o'er the temples awhile,
    Arresting the eye, and affecting the smile;
    Then, loose, unadorned, and neglected, to go,
    While the dark clouds of care shed among us their snow,
    To be screened from life's storms by the marble and willow,
    And to rest, thinned and damp, on a cold earthy pillow."

    Ye withering roses that bloomed on the cheek,
    Say, what was your purpose? and what do ye speak?

    "Our errand was short —we've accomplished our duty,
    And shown you how vain, and how fleeting is beauty!"

    And thou, wasting form, once so buoyant and free,
    So fair, and so flexile, come, say, what of thee?

    "Like the insect that sports out its warm summer's day,
    Or the atom that floats on the bright solar ray,
    I have shone 'mid the glitter of fashion and pleasure;
    I have flitted my hour, and have filled up my measure.
    I have borne the bright chaplet, the silk's graceful fold;
    Have decked myself out in rich fossils and gold;
    Gay colors have clothed me, I've worn the light plume
    To enliven my path to the verge of the tomb.
    Yet I knew all the while, I was transient and frail;
    I felt myself sinking, my energy fail.
    I knew that the canker was trying his power,
    That his tooth had begun at the heart of the flower,
    That, true to his purpose, he'd finish my fall
    To the final abode, the asylum of all."

    If such be the end of each perishing part,
    Immortal, invisible, tell what thou art;
    Thy business, and what thou dost hope to inherit,
    Thou restless, aspiring, unsatisfied Spirit!

    "What my nature may be, there is none that can know,
    But the Being above to whose presence I go.
    But I've dwelt on this earth, and its joys have embraced,
    'Till I've found myself wounded, deceived and disgraced.
    Its flowers, when I touched them, would wither and fall;
    I tasted its cup, but 't was mingled with gall.
    Allured to its landscape, the serpent or snare
    I found was concealed, and awaited me there;
    That the rainbow hung o'er it, so bright to my eyes,
    At best, was but vapor, or tears in disguise.
    I have leant on this world, 'till with anguish I feel
    It is harder, and colder, and keener than steel.
    Only constant to change, and to falsehood but true,
    It stabs while it kisses, and smiles to undo.
    But for me the deceit of its visions are o'er;
    They shall wound and enslave and ensnare me no more:
    For faint, torn and bleeding, I turn from the earth,
    And look up in faith to the realm of my birth:
    I know there's a sun with a glorious light,
    With beams full of healing, to burst on my sight,
    Dispelling the shadows of sorrow and care;
    I know that a balm, a Physician is there.
    That country, that home, the unsatisfied spirit
    Here sighs to recover, and hopes to inherit."

  5. Evening Hymn

    by Anonymous

    Come to the sunset tree,
    The day is past and gone;
    The woodman's ax lies free,
    And the reaper's work is done;
    The twilight star to heaven,
    And the summer dew to flowers,
    And rest to us is given,
    By the soft evening hours.

    Sweet is the hour of rest,
    Pleasant the woods' low sigh,
    And the gleaming of the west,
    And the turf whereon we lie,
    When the burden and the heat
    Of the laborer's task is o'er,
    And kindly voices greet
    The tired one at the door.

    Yes, tuneful is the sound
    That dwells in whispering boughs:
    Welcome the freshness round,
    And the gale that fans our brows;
    But rest more sweet and still
    Than ever the nightfall gave,
    Our yearning hearts shall fill,
    In the world beyond the grave.

    There, shall no tempests blow,
    Nor scorching noontide heat;
    There, shall be no more snow,
    No weary, wandering feet;
    So we lift our trusting eyes
    From the hills our fathers trod,
    To the quiet of the skies,
    To the Sabbath of our God.

  6. This Beautiful Earth

    by Amos Russel Wells

    Oh, the beauty I have seen,
    On the earth and in the sky!
    Oh, the sunshine in between
    As the shadows floated by!
    Oh, the faces sweet and fair,
    And the bird-notes in the air,
    And the grace the blossoms hear
    Dearly nigh!

    Where the sunrise glory gleams,
    Where the twilight hushes fall,
    In the laughter of the streams,
    In the ivy on the wall.
    Where the thoughts of love arise
    In a maiden's happy eyes—
    What a dream of beauty lies
    Over all!

    There are terrors of the storm,
    There is winter's chilly woe,
    But the Father-love is warm,
    And His wisdom has it so;
    All the world's the Father's kiss,
    Just a glimmer of the bliss
    In the region after this
    Where we go!

  7. Peace

    by Amos Russel Wells

    The willows glimmer in the sun,
    The aspens tremble on the breeze,
    The singing ripples gently run
    Within the shadows of the trees.

    The quiet, meditative kine,
    The steady granite in the wall—
    What peace, contenting and benign,
    Enfolds and crystallizes all!

    Rebuked, ashamed, the faithless fret,
    The childish worry, fall away;
    My empty fear and vain regret
    Dissolve in God's assuring day.

    If peace on earth so fair and sweet
    Is gladly, freely, fully given,
    What joy some day our souls will greet,—
    The unimagined peace of heaven!

  8. Astra Castra

    by Emily Dickinson

    Departed to the judgment,
    A mighty afternoon;
    Great clouds like ushers leaning,
    Creation looking on.

    The flesh surrendered, cancelled,
    The bodiless begun;
    Two worlds, like audiences, disperse
    And leave the soul alone.

  9. Suspense

    by Emily Dickinson

    Elysium is as far as to
    The very nearest room,
    If in that room a friend await
    Felicity or doom.

    What fortitude the soul contains,
    That it can so endure
    The accent of a coming foot,
    The opening of a door!

  10. Going to heaven!

    by Emily Dickinson

    Going to heaven!
    I don't know when,
    Pray do not ask me how, —
    Indeed, I 'm too astonished
    To think of answering you!
    Going to heaven! —
    How dim it sounds!
    And yet it will be done
    As sure as flocks go home at night
    Unto the shepherd's arm!

    Perhaps you 're going too!
    Who knows?
    If you should get there first,
    Save just a little place for me
    Close to the two I lost!

    The smallest "robe" will fit me,
    And just a bit of "crown;"
    For you know we do not mind our dress
    When we are going home.

    I 'm glad I don't believe it,
    For it would stop my breath,
    And I 'd like to look a little more
    At such a curious earth!
    I am glad they did believe it
    Whom I have never found
    Since the mighty autumn afternoon
    I left them in the ground.

  11. I went to heaven, —

    by Emily Dickinson

    I went to heaven, —
    'T was a small town,
    Lit with a ruby,
    Lathed with down.
    Stiller than the fields
    At the full dew,
    Beautiful as pictures
    No man drew.
    People like the moth,
    Of mechlin, frames,
    Duties of gossamer,
    And eider names.
    Almost contented
    I could be
    'Mong such unique

  12. Is Heaven a physician?

    by Emily Dickinson

    Is Heaven a physician?
    They say that He can heal;
    But medicine posthumous
    Is unavailable.

    Is Heaven an exchequer?
    They speak of what we owe;
    But that negotiation
    I'm not a party to.

  13. Immortality

    by Emily Dickinson

    It is an honorable thought,
    And makes one lift one's hat,
    As one encountered gentlefolk
    Upon a daily street,

    That we've immortal place,
    Though pyramids decay,
    And kingdoms, like the orchard,
    Flit russetly away.

  14. Joy in Death

    by Emily Dickinson

    If tolling bell I ask the cause.
    'A soul has gone to God,'
    I'm answered in a lonesome tone;
    Is heaven then so sad?

    That bells should joyful ring to tell
    A soul had gone to heaven,
    Would seem to me the proper way
    A good news should be given.

  15. This world is not conclusion

    by Emily Dickinson

    This world is not conclusion;
    A sequel stands beyond,
    Invisible, as music,
    But positive, as sound.
    It beckons and it baffles;
    Philosophies don't know,
    And through a riddle, at the last,
    Sagacity must go.
    To guess it puzzles scholars;
    To gain it, men have shown
    Contempt of generations,
    And crucifixion known.

  16. Rouge Gagne

    by Emily Dickinson

    'T is so much joy! 'T is so much joy!
    If I should fail, what poverty!
    And yet, as poor as I
    Have ventured all upon a throw;
    Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
    This side the victory!

    Life is but life, and death but death!
    Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!
    And if, indeed, I fail,
    At least to know the worst is sweet.
    Defeat means nothing but defeat,
    No drearier can prevail!

    And if I gain, — oh, gun at sea,
    Oh, bells that in the steeples be,
    At first repeat it slow!
    For heaven is a different thing
    Conjectured, and waked sudden in,
    And might o'erwhelm me so!

  17. Far From My Heavenly Home

    by Henry Frances Lyte

    Far from my heavenly home,
    Far from my Father’s breast,
    Fainting I cry, blest Spirit, come
    And speed me to my rest.

    My spirit homeward turns
    And fain would thither flee;
    My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns,
    When I remember thee.

    To thee, to thee I press,
    A dark and toilsome road;
    When shall I pass the wilderness,
    And reach the saint’s abode?

    God of my life, be near;
    On Thee my hopes I cast:
    O guide me through the desert here,
    And bring me home at last.

  18. The Choir Invisible

    by George Eliot

    O may I join the choir invisible
    Of those immortal dead who live again
    In minds made better by their presence: live
    In pulses stirr’d to generosity,
    In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn
    For miserable aims that end with self,
    In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,
    And with their mild persistence urge man’s search
    To vaster issues.
    So to live is heaven:
    To make undying music in the world,
    Breathing as beauteous order that controls
    With growing sway the growing life of man.
    So we inherit that sweet purity
    For which we struggled, fail’d, and agoniz’d
    With widening retrospect that bred despair.
    Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued,
    A vicious parent shaming still its child,
    Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolv’d;
    Its discords, quench’d by meeting harmonies,
    Die in the large and charitable air.
    And all our rarer, better, truer self,
    That sobb’d religiously in yearning song,
    That watch’d to ease the burthen of the world,
    Laboriously tracing what must be,
    And what may yet be better,—saw within
    A worthier image for the sanctuary,
    And shap’d it forth before the multitude,
    Divinely human, raising worship so
    To higher reverence more mix’d with love,— That better self shall live till human Time
    Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky
    Be gather’d like a scroll within the tomb Unread forever.
    This is life to come,
    Which martyr’d men have made more glorious
    For us who strive to follow. May I reach
    That purest heaven, be to other souls
    The cup of strength in some great agony,
    Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,
    Beget the smiles that have no cruelty,
    Be the sweet presence of a good diffus’d,
    And in diffusion ever more intense!
    So shall I join the choir invisible
    Whose music is the gladness of the world

  19. Heaven

    by Rupert Brooke

    Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June,
    Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
    Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
    Each secret fishy hope or fear.
    Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
    But is there anything Beyond?
    This life cannot be All, they swear,
    For how unpleasant, if it were!
    One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
    Shall come of Water and of Mud;
    And, sure, the reverent eye must see
    A Purpose in Liquidity.
    We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
    The future is not Wholly Dry.
    Mud unto mud! — Death eddies near —
    Not here the appointed End, not here!
    But somewhere, beyond Space and Time.
    Is wetter water, slimier slime!
    And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
    Who swam ere rivers were begun,
    Immense, of fishy form and mind,
    Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
    And under that Almighty Fin,
    The littlest fish may enter in.
    Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
    Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
    But more than mundane weeds are there,
    And mud, celestially fair;
    Fat caterpillars drift around,
    And Paradisal grubs are found;
    Unfading moths, immortal flies,
    And the worm that never dies.
    And in that Heaven of all their wish,
    There shall be no more land, say fish.

  20. Heaven

    by Peter Burn

    There's a land where the souls of the righteous reign,
    A home where the weary ones rest;
    There, there is enjoyment without any pain,
    There nought can be found that has blemish or stain,
    For all with perfection are blest.

    'Tis free from the wearisome darkness of night,
    'Tis blest with continual day;
    Our God is its sun, and we walk in His light;
    There, cruel disease has no power to blight,
    'Tis free from the spoiler, decay.

    Soon our bark will land, where sorrow
    Never rolls along the side;
    Faith and hope light's up the morrow—
    Where with God we shall abide.

    – Eliza Wolcott
    To Sorrow
  21. No Lasting Joy Below

    by Eliza and Sarah Wolcott

    Bright fancy leads the youthful mind
    To seek some joy below;
    But 'ere old age creeps on, we find
    The scene is chang'd for wo.

    How brilliant are the various scenes,
    That prompt the youth to sow
    His seed to fancy's airy dreams,
    Which disappoint below.

    But there's a bark, whose gilded oar
    Invite the youth to row;
    Thus he ascends, then upward soars,
    And leaves all grief below.

    His part is heaven, and God's his friend,
    Who doth to him bestow
    A crown of love, which will amend
    For pangs of grief below.

    I've seen earth's prospects blasted,
    To me they've died away;
    But heaven's bright promise lasted,
    Which never can decay.

    – Eliza Wolcott
    Happiness Is To Be Found In God Alone
  22. Life is Transient

    by Eliza and Sarah Wolcott

    Such is the state of life, my friend,
    That all is transient here;
    If we have trials to contend,
    Our heaven, our home is near.

    If our dear friends around us fall,
    Or other sorrows come,
    Let's think the warnings are a call,
    To speed our passage home.

    If prosperous days around us smile,
    Then view the hand that gives,
    But let not prosperous days beguile
    Our souls from him that lives.

    If clouds or storms be seen afar,
    And dreary winter come,
    May we be mindful of the Star
    That guides our passage home.

  23. Nearer Home

    by Phoebe Cary

    One sweetly solemn thought
    Comes to me o'er and o'er,—
    I am nearer home to-day
    Than I've ever been before;—

    Nearer my Father's house
    Where the many mansions be,
    Nearer the great white throne,
    Nearer the jasper sea;—

    Nearer the bound of life
    Where we lay our burdens down;
    Nearer leaving the cross,
    Nearer gaining the crown.

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

    Closer and closer my steps
    Come to the dark abysm;
    Closer death to my lips
    Presses the awful chrism.

    Father, perfect my trust;
    Strengthen the might of my faith;
    Let me feel as I would when I stand
    On the rock of the shore of death,—

    Feel as I would when my feet
    Are slipping o'er the brink;
    For it may be I am nearer home,
    Nearer now than I think.

  24. Heaven

    by William Henry Dawson

    The sweetest thoughts of heaven, that come to me,
    Are of the vast unfolding of the mind;
    Ever expanding, until eternity
    Shall, to itself, a limitation find.
    Then I shall find in my redeemed soul,
    A likeness of the ever living God;
    And, looking outward o'er Time's endless scroll,
    Discern the pathway by the Savior trod.
    The reuniting there with kindred souls;
    Th' wakening to a real sense of Him;
    Rejoicing as the soul itself unfolds;
    Compared with that, this earthly light, how dim!

  25. Good Seed

    by Dudley Hughes Davis

    Good seed sown on the earth
    Shall ever bloom in heaven;
    And while eternity rolls on
    Grow more beautiful and lovely,
    Variegating its tints
    With the golden skies
    Of the heavenly world,
    While the everlasting fountain,
    Which flows from the throne of God,
    Shall lift its golden spray
    In heavenly clouds,
    To fall like dew-drops
    On the never withering bloom
    Which shall live forever and ever.

  26. I Saw a Gate

    by James Russell Lowell

    I saw a gate: a harsh voice spake and said,
    "This is the gate of Life;" above was writ,
    "Leave hope behind, all ye who enter it;"
    Then shrank my heart within itself for dread;
    But, softer than the summer rain is shed,
    Words dropt upon my soul, and they did say,
    "Fear nothing, Faith shall save thee, watch and pray!"
    So, without fear I lifted up my head,
    And lo! that writing was not, one fair word
    Was carven in its stead, and it was "Love."
    Then rained once more those sweet tones from above
    With healing on their wings: I humbly heard,
    "I am the Life, ask and it shall be given!
    I am the way, by me ye enter Heaven!"

  27. Harmony and Heaven

    by Kate Louise Wheeler

    Our souls are made of harmony
    To sing and live forever;
    For Harmony and Heaven are one
    Where discord soundeth never.

  28. The Death of the Righteous

    by Lydia Sigourney

    I look'd upon the righteous man,
    And saw his parting breath,
    Without a struggle or a sigh
    Yield peacefully to Death,
    There was no anguish on his brow,
    No terror in his eye,
    The Spoiler launch'd a fatal dart,
    But lost the victory.

    I look'd upon the righteous man,
    And heard the holy prayer
    Which rose above that breathless clay
    To soothe the mourner's care,
    And felt how precious was the gift,
    He to his dear ones gave,
    The stainless memory of the just,
    The wealth beyond the grave.

    I look'd upon the righteous man,
    And all our earthly trust,
    Its pleasure—vanity, and pride,
    Seem'd lighter than the dust,
    Compar'd with his eternal gain,
    A home above the sky!—
    O grant us, Lord, his life to live,
    That we his death may die.

  29. Weariness

    by Mary E. Tucker

    Ah, is there no, no place on earth
    Where weary souls can rest?
    Are none who spring from mortal birth
    With perfect bliss e'er blest?

    Or shall we be forever longing —
    Be with wants and wishes filled;
    Craving things to earth belonging,
    Not the things that God hath willed?

    Oh!, how weary, weary, weary,
    And how long doth seem the day,
    When too sad, and lone and dreary,
    Plod we on our toilsome way?

    With not one, not one to love us,
    How can we of bliss e'er dream?
    Of the blissful heaven above us
    Can we ever catch a gleam?

    Can we long endure such sorrow
    Without longing for the day —
    Praying God that ere the morrow
    We may pass from earth away?

    Is there even one, a mortal,
    Who content with life's sad store
    Would retreat from heaven's blest portal,
    And return to earth once more?

  30. The Golden Sunset

    by Samuel Longfellow

    The golden sea its mirror spreads
    Beneath the golden skies,
    And but a narrow strip between
    Of earth and shadow lies.

    The cloud-like cliffs, the cliff-like clouds,
    Dissolved in glory, float,
    And midway of the radiant floods
    Hangs silently the boat.

    The sea is but another sky,
    The sky a sea as well,
    And which is earth and which the heavens
    The eye can scarcely tell.

    So when for me life's latest hour
    Soft passes to its end,
    May glory, born of earth and heaven,
    The earth and heaven blend.

    Flooded with light the spirits float,
    With silent rapture glow,
    Till where earth ends and heaven begins
    The soul shall scarcely know.

  31. The Gates of Zion

    by Anonymous

    The beautiful gates of Zion,
    The portals of love and delight,
    They call me, they beckon me to them,
    But shut are they day and night.

    Closed and silent and solemn,
    Shut, and no porter near;
    Still by their beauty they call me,
    And I cannot choose but hear.

    I cannot choose but approach them,
    Alone and wistful and slow,
    With no one to bid me welcome
    And show me the way to go.

    For no one can choose them for me.
    And no one but I can knock
    And no one can handle for me
    The key in the golden lock

    But lo! at the gentlest pressure,
    The least faint tap at the gate,
    Bright in the glow of morning
    Or at midnight drearily late.

    At the merest, timidest trial
    The gates are flung open wide,
    And oh! the glory of welcome
    One finds on the other side!

  32. Who has not found the heaven below

    by Emily Dickinson

    Who has not found the heaven below
    Will fail of it above.
    God's residence is next to mine,
    His furniture is love.

  33. Upon Time and Eternity

    by John Bunyan

    Eternity is like unto a Ring.
    Time, like to Measure, doth it self extend;
    Measure commences, is a finite thing.
    The Ring has no beginning, middle, end.

  34. Eliza Wolcott

    by Eliza Wolcott

    Hear, mortals bear, and all that dwell below,
    The Promise hear,—and gird your armor on;
    Nor let affliction daunt you as you go,
    But take the cross—the crown our Savior won.

    The tree of life has healing powers for all;
    And underneath its branches all may rest:
    Awake, all Nations, march at Jesus' call,
    For soon your conflict 's o'er, and ye are blest.

    Those gates, twelve gates, which never shut by day,
    Unfold new glories, there the promise is;
    There Jesus leads captivity away,
    And holy souls enjoy their promis'd bliss.

    Great day! glad day! responsive angels say:
    Sinners, repent, and read your Bibles more;
    Nor tempt His anger by your long delay,
    But knock, and you shall find an open door.

    Christ is the door, the truth, the only way,
    And in His pastures, weary souls may find
    A safe Conductor to eternal day,—
    While on His arm our cares are all resign'd.

    There is a balm in Gilead—sinners, come,
    Eternal life for every contrite soul;
    The great Physician brings His children home,
    To heal the sick, and make the wounded whole.

  35. The Joy of Hope

    by Peter Burn

    When lonely and dejected,
    When weary and oppress'd,
    I love to think of heaven,
    That place of joy and rest;
    I love when trials meet me,
    And waves of trouble roll,
    To think upon the pleasures
    Which there await my soul.

    The path I tread is dreary,
    My lot, alas! is poor;
    But heaven's promised to me
    Why should I wish for more?
    This life is but a vapour,
    Which vanisheth away,
    Earth's pleasures are as flowers,
    They wither and decay.

    But, oh! the joys of heaven
    Are not like those of earth,
    They're real and enduring,
    No tongue can speak their worth;
    No mortal eye is able
    To picture aught so fair;
    No blight, no death, no sorrow,
    Are known to enter there.

  36. Treasures in Heaven

  37. The Coronation

    by Hannah Flagg Gould

    A grand coronation is near!
    But who is to hallow the rite?
    On whom is the crown to appear?
    And who is to witness the sight?

    That splendor no mortal must see,
    Nor join in a throng so august;
    For all who are there will be free
    From sorrow, from stain and from dust!

    The streets will have pavements of gold
    Which the glorious company tread;
    The King will the diadem hold
    To place on his follower's head.

    For he, who so feeble and pale
    On the pillow of death lowly lies,
    Shall find that his path through the vale
    Leads out to a life in the skies.

    And when his pure forehead is crowned
    With light that is never to fade,
    The harps of the angels shall sound—
    The treasures above be displayed.

    The righteous has now but to die;
    The soldier has finished his fight;
    His grand coronation is nigh,
    But earth must not witness the sight.

  38. Wrought Into Gold

    by Anonymous

    "I saw a smile,—to a poor man 'twas given,
    And he was old.
    The sun broke forth; I saw that smile in heaven
    Wrought into gold.
    Gold of such lustre never was vouchsafed to us;
    It made the very light of day more luminous.

    "I saw a toiling woman sinking down
    Footsore and cold.
    A soft hand covered her—the humble gown,
    Wrought into gold,
    Grew straight imperishable, and will be shown
    To smiling angels gathered round the judgment throne.

    "Wrought into gold! We that pass down life's hours
    So carelessly,
    Might make the dusty way a path of flowers
    If we would try.
    Then every gentle deed we've done or kind word given,
    Wrought into gold, would make us wondrous rich in heaven."

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