Our Silent City | AdventAI

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 11, 1866

Our Silent City.

All that tread the globe are but a handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom.—W. C. Bryant.

HAVE we not all one there? An aged sire—circling his ripened brow The blended hues of time's toil, joy, and care, A nimbus of white light, radiant as snow; When by our fireside beamed that light no more, We said the blessing, thence, had passed away; When all the daily, duteous care was o'er Which called to lip and eye that kindly ray, When feeble step and failing speech were still, With slow pace sought we then that Holy Hill, And in our Silent City's peaceful breast Gave the spent mortal its last home of rest; Henceforth that sacred place demands our care— Have we not all one there?

Have we not all one there? Maternal arms folded above a heart, In every pulse of which our pulse had share, Of whose life-spring our life-spring was a part; Those arms, like the embracing love of God, Shielded and shut us in from every ill, Straightened and smoothed the path our first steps trod, Composed the aching head or wayward will; In their cold stillness shall they be forgot— Say, has the earth a holier, dearer spot? Oh, with what eager footsteps should we come To beautify that Silent City Home! Untiring as was hers, should be our care— Have we not all one there?

Yes, we have all some there— Our Silent City streets are peopled well; They could not stay our time—fruits here to share, There cannot reach them where in light they'll dwell; But the dear casket left for memory, We will enwreathe with Nature's fairest forms, Art, too, affection's promptings shall obey, Till cold, damp Fear into Faith's likeness warms, Till aching hearts like hushed ones there find peace, As though earth's beauty heavenly hopes increase; And lingering footsteps, like the lingering day, Shall o'er our Holy Hill-top love to stray. All hearts, all hands, in the blest toil may share, For we have all some there. —Living Age.