There will be no Night there.
No night, with its gloomy darkness and fearful raging tempest. How it howls about our casement and tears in fury among the leafless branches. The thunder mutters its fearful anger, and the ghastly lightning glares vividly about us. But there no storms will sweep over the soul. All will be serene and pure; as the morning sun bursting in beauty over the tranquil lake; as the midnight sky gazing silently and solemnly upon the repose of nature, when the wind has hushed its breath and the little stars hold converse in gentle whispers. No night there! with its long tedious hours of anxious care, of restlessness and pain. Ah! who cannot recall them; when we sat by his bedside, and bathed his fainting temples, and heard the knell of the lazy hours as they crept slowly by. And then the morning came, but not to our souls; for the spirit of the beloved had gone and left us desolate. No night there! with its unconscious stupor; with its forgetfulness of the past and unconcern for the future; with its dreams of terror, and sudden alarm. The faculties of the soul will be all awake there. We will tell it in the diamond starlight showered upon our pathway; we will read it in the solemn cycles of the rolling planets. The flowers of Paradise will whisper it to our souls, and its gentle waters and healing streams all will speak of it. No night there! and therefore no darkness; no darkness and therefore no fear. He will wipe away all our tears. His banner over us will be love; and we will think of the days gone by; of the toils and conflicts of old earth, and it will be like the thoughts of the weary mariner, when he has clewed up the sails for the last time; and now from his mountain home gazes o'er the fretful, roaring waters on which he has suffered and toiled.