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Is but the shadow from within, of the great glory
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;
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
I have buried grief and sorrow
See the glorious clouds of morning away, and clear and bright
Shine the rays of cloudless daylight,
Wherefore will ye moan of night?
Never shall my heart be burthened
Back, ye Phantoms; leave, oh leave me To a new and happy lot;
Speak no more of things departed,
Leave me, for I know ye not.
Can it be that 'mid my gladness
Joy is mine; but your sad voices
Vain, oh worse than vain, the Visions
Y God, I thank Thee who hast made
So full of splendour and of joy,
So many glorious things are here,
I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made
Joy to abound;
So many gentle thoughts and deeds
Circling us round,
That in the darkest spot of Earth
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
Hast given us joys, tender and true,
So that we see, gleaming on high,
I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept
The best in store;
We have enough, yet not too much
To long for more:
A yearning for a deeper peace,
I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls,
Though amply blest,
Can never find, although they seek,
A perfect rest
Nor ever shall, until they lean
On Jesus' breast!