“I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY.”
[Written nearly fifty years ago by the late Dr. Muhlenberg. From the Independent.] I would not live alway—live alway below!
Oh! no; I'll not linger when bidden to go.
The days of our pilgrimage granted us here
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its
cheer. Would I shrink from the paths which the prophets
of God,
Apostles and martyrs, so joyfully trod?
Like a spirit unblest o'er the earth would I roam,
While brethren and friends are all hastening
home? I would not live alway. I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;
Where, seeking for rest, we but hover around,
Like the patriarch's bird, and no resting is found;
Where hope, when she paints her gay bow in the
air,
Leaves its radiance to fade in the night of despair,
And joy's fleeting angel ne'er sheds a glad ray,
Save the gleam of the plumage that bears him
away. I would not live alway; thus fettered by sin,
Temptation without and corruption within;
In a moment of strength, if I sever the chain,
Scarce the victory is mine ere I'm captive again.
E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,
And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears;
The festival trump calls for jubilant songs,
But my spirit her own miserere prolongs. I would not live alway. No, welcome the tomb.
Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom.
Where he deigned to sleep I'll too bow my head,
All peaceful to slumber on that hallowed bed,
Then the glorious daybreak to follow that night,
The orient gleam of the angels of light,
With their clarion call for the sleepers to rise,
And chant forth their matins, away to the skies. Who would live always away from his God,
Away from yon Heaven, that blissful abode,
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright
plains,
And the moontide of glory eternally reigns;
Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Saviour and brethren, transported to greet,
While the songs of salvation exultingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul? That heavenly music! What is it I hear?
The notes of the harper ring sweet in mine ear!
And see, soft unfolding those portals of gold!
The King all arrayed in his beauty behold!
Oh! give me, oh! give me, the wings of a dove,
To adore him, be near him, enrapt in his love.
I but wait the summons, I list for the word:
Alleluia—Amen—evermore with the Lord.