Bright land of Beulah, beatific mount, Where the celestial city showeth plain; Thy girdling river is the fabled fount Where they who lave, perennial youth obtain. Beyond, the myriad mansions of the blest Kindle and glow in never-clouded skies; Here, while they gaze upon the realms of rest Immortal yearning cleanses mortal eyes. No sorrow enters this sequestered place, Nor party strife, nor rivalry of trade, Nor family dissension, nor a trace Of all the heartache selfishness has made. The circled year is a serener June; Remote from March's and November's frown; The dateless day is an unwaning noon, The charméd sun forgetful to go down. Beneath her peace the spirit throbs and thrills, As heaves the deep beneath the wings of calm; While, like the dew, from depths divine, distills The harmony of Heaven's eternal psalm. But friends and treasure are beyond the stream That 'twixt them and the beck'ning splendor rolls. And while their home they view as in a dream, A sweet nostalgia subdues their souls. Accusing memory is soothed to sleep; Relentless Nemesis allows release; Only the shiver of the diver's leap, A moment's pang,—and then abiding peace. I keep my journey on the heavenward way, To gain its goal my expectation fair; The land of Beulah draweth near today, And still I long, and dread, to find me there. |