p. 1 | NOT VERY FAR

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 8, 1860

NOT VERY FAR.

SURELY, yon heaven, where angels see God's face, Is not so distant as we deem From this low earth. 'Tis but a little space, The narrow crossing of a slender stream; 'Tis but a veil, which winds might blow aside: Yes, these are all that us of earth divide From the bright dwelling of the glorified— The land of which I dream.

These peaks are nearer heaven than earth below; These hills are higher than they seem: 'Tis not the clouds they touch, nor the soft brow Of the o'erbending azure, as we deem; 'Tis the blue floor of heaven that they uphear, And like some old and wildly-rugged stair, They lift us to the land where all is fair— The land of which I dream.

These ocean-waves, in their unmeasur'd sweep, Are brighter, bluer than they seem; True image here of the celestial deep— Fed from the fullness of the unfailing stream— Heaven's glassy sea of everlasting rest, With not a breath to stir its silent breast, The sea that laves the land where all are blest— The land of which I dream.

And these keen stars, the bridal gems of night, Are purer, lovlier than they seem; Fill'd from the inner fountain of deep light, They pour down heaven's own beam; Clear-speaking from their throne of glorious blue, In accents ever ancient, ever new, Of the glad home above, beyond our view— The land of which I dream.

This life of ours, these lingering years of earth Are brighter, swifter than they seem: A little while, and the great second birth Of time shall come, the prophet's ancient theme. Then He, the King, the Judge, at length shall come, And for this desert, where we sadly roam, Shall give the kingdom for our endless home— The land of which I dream. [London Quarterly Journal of Prophecy.]