SUNDAY AT HOME
" THE OTHER WORLD.” Its gentle breezes fan your cheek Amid our worldly cares ; Its gentle voices whisper love, And mingle with our prayers. Sweet hearts around us throb and beat. Sweet, helping hands are stirred ; And palpitates the veil between With breathings almost heard. The silence awful, sweet, and calm, They have no power to break ; For mortal words are not for them To utter or partake. So thin, so soft, so sweet they glide, So near to press they seem. They lull us gently to our rest. They melt us into dream. And in the hush of rest they bring ’Tis easy now to see How lovely and how sweet a pass The hour of death may be. To close the eye and close the ear, Wrapped in a trance of bliss, And gently drawn in loving- arms To swoon to that from this. Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, Scarce asking where we are ; To feel all evil sink away. All sorrow and all care. Sweet souls around us ! watch us still. Press nearer to our side ; Into our thoughts, into our prayers, With gentle helpings glide. Let death between us be as naught, A dried and vanished stream ; Your joy be the reality, Our suffering life the dream. —Harriet Beecher Stowe.
Permanent link to this item
SUNDAY AT HOME, Southern Cross, Volume 15, Issue 16, 3 August 1907
SUNDAY AT HOME Southern Cross, Volume 15, Issue 16, 3 August 1907
Using This Item
See our copyright guide for information on how you may use this title.