Upon the frontier of this shadowy land
  We pilgrims of eternal sorrow stand: 
    What realm lies forward, with its happier store
      Of forests green and deep,
      Of valleys hushed in sleep,
    And lakes most peaceful?  ’Tis the land of
        Evermore.

  Very far off its marble cities seem—­
  Very far off—­beyond our sensual dream—­
    Its woods, unruffled by the wild wind’s roar;
      Yet does the turbulent surge
      Howl on its very verge. 
    One moment—­and we breathe within the
        Evermore.

  They whom we loved and lost so long ago
  Dwell in those cities, far from mortal woe—­
    Haunt those fresh woodlands, whence sweet carollings soar. 
      Eternal peace have they;
      God wipes their tears away: 
    They drink that river of life which flows from
        Evermore.

  Thither we hasten through these regions dim,
  But, lo, the wide wings of the Seraphim
    Shine in the sunset!  On that joyous shore
      Our lightened hearts shall know
      The life of long ago: 
    The sorrow-burdened past shall fade for
        Evermore.

MORTIMER COLLINS.

* * * * *

THE ANSWER.

“Who would not go”
With buoyant steps, to gain that blessed portal,
Which opens to the land we long to know? 
Where shall be satisfied the soul’s immortal,
Where we shall drop the wearying and the woe
In resting so?

“Ah, who would fear?”
Since, sometimes through the distant pearly portal,
Unclosing to some happy soul a-near,
We catch a gleam of glorious light immortal,
And strains of heavenly music faintly hear,
Breathing good cheer!

“Who would endure”
To walk in doubt and darkness with misgiving,
When he whose tender promises are sure—­
The Crucified, the Lord, the Ever-living—­
Keeps us those “mansions” evermore secure
By waters pure?

Oh, wondrous land! 
Fairer than all our spirit’s fairest dreaming: 
“Eye hath not seen,” no heart can understand
The things prepared, the cloudless radiance streaming. 
How longingly we wait our Lord’s command—­
His opening hand!

O dear ones there! 
Whose voices, hushed, have left our pathway lonely,
We come, erelong, your blessed home to share;
We take the guiding hand, we trust it only—­
Seeing, by faith, beyond this clouded air,
That land so fair!

ANONYMOUS.

* * * * *

FOREVER WITH THE LORD.

Forever with the Lord! 
Amen! so let it be! 
Life from the dead is in that word,
And immortality.

    Here in the body pent,
    Absent from him I roam,
  Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
    A day’s march nearer home.

    My Father’s house on high,
    Home of my soul! how near,
  At times, to faith’s foreseeing eye
    Thy golden gates appear!