Could we but look beyond our sphere,
And trace, along the azure sky,
The myriads that were inmates here
Since Abel's spirit soar'd on high--
Then might we tell of those who see
Our wand'rings from eternity!
But human frailty cannot gaze
On such a cloud of splendid light
As heaven's sacred court displays,
Of blessed spirits clothed in white,
Who from the fears of death are free,
And look from an eternity.
They look, but ne'er return again
To tell the secrets of their home;
And kindliest tears for them are vain--
For never, never shall they come,
Till Time's pale light begin to flee
Before a bright eternity!
Could we but gaze beyond our sphere,
Within the golden porch of heaven,
And see those spirits which appear
Like stars upon the robe of even!
But no! unseen to us they see
Our wanderings from eternity!
The crimes of men which Heaven saw,
And pitied with a parent's eye,
Could ne'er a kindred spirit draw
In mercy from its home on high;
They look, but all they know or see
Is silent as eternity!
At noonday hour, or midnight deep,
No bright inhabitant draws nigh;
And though a parent's offspring weep,
No whisper echoes from the sky;
Though friends may gaze, yet all they see
Is known but in eternity!
Yet we may look beyond our sphere
On One who shines among the throng;
And we by faith may also hear
The triumphs of a glorious song;
And while we gaze on Him, we see
The path to this eternity!