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Is but the shadow from within, of the great glory
hidden there And morn and
eve, and soon and late, the shadows pass within the gate.
As one by one they enter in, and the stern portals
close once more, The halo seems to linger round those kneeling
closest to the door : The joy that lightened from that place shines still
the watcher's face.
The faint low echo that we hear of far-off music
seems to fill
The silent air with love and fear, and the world's
clamours all grow still, Until the portals close again, and leave us toiling
on in pain.
Complain not that the way is long-what road is weary
that leads there? But let the Angel take thy hand, and lead thee up
the misty stair, And then with beating heart await, the opening of
the Golden Gate.
ACK, ye Phantoms of the Past;
In your dreary caves remain :
What have I to do with memories Of a long-forgotten pain?
For my Present is all peaceful,
And my Future nobly planned : Long ago Time's mighty billows
Swept your footsteps from the sand.
Back into your caves; nor haunt me
voices full of woe; I have buried grief and sorrow
In the depths of Long-ago.
See the glorious clouds of morning
Roll away, and clear and bright Shine the rays of cloudless daylight,
Wherefore will ye móan of night?
Never shall my heart be burthened
With its ancient woe and fears ;
I can check these foolish tears.
Back, ye Phantoms; leave, oh leave me
To a new and happy lot;
Can it be that ʼmid my gladness
I must ever hear you wail,
And that made my cheek so pale ?
Joy is mine; but your sad voices
Murmur ever in mine ear : Vain is all the Future's promise,
While the dreary Past is here.
Vain, oh worse than vain, the Visions
That my heart, my life would fill, If the Past's relentless phantoms
Call upon me still !
Y God, I thank Thee who hast made
The Earth so bright;
Beauty and light;
Noble and right!
I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made
Joy to abound;
Circling us round,
Some love is found.
I thank Thee more that all our joy
Is touched with pain;
That shadows fall on brightest hours;
That thorns remain ; So that Earth's bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.
For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon
Our weak heart clings,
Yet all with wings,
I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept
The best in store;
To long for more :
Not known before.
I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls,
Though amply blest,
A perfect rest-
On Jesus' breast !