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I THINK OF HEAVEN. |
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And almost catch from every dazzling portal The glorious calm of an eternal rest.
When evening comes, and twilight shadows spreading Their sombre wings, brood darkly in our sky, And the night air its chilly damps is shedding, And the low wind breathes like a plaintive sigh; I think of Heaven—that land of shadeless splendor, Where not a night-cloud gathers round the • heart, Where earth's cold chilling damps can never enter, Nor dismal sounds their loneliness impart.
Whene'er a prosp'rous sun the spirit gladdens,
And earth has charms my footsteps to insnare, When 'mid the brightness there is naught that saddens,
And all is glowing, beautiful, and fair; Thinking of Heaven, I clasp this sacred treasure,
This holy word, which tells of future bliss— Of more exalted and enduring pleasure
Than can be found in such a world as this.
When those I love with friendship's pure emotion,— Those, for whose weal I could with all thing* part,—
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