To your home on the other shore.

Soon "over the sea ye shall walk with me, On the hills by the angels trod,

In the garments white, of the sons of light,

In the freedom and peace of God.

I STILL LIVE.

Given under the inspiration of Miss A. W. Sprague, at the conclusion of a lecture in Philadelphia, October 25, 1863.]

O THOU, whose love is changeless,

Both now and evermore;

Source of all conscious being.

Thy goodness I adore.

Lord, I would ever praise Thee,
For all Thy love can give;

But most of all, O Father!

I thank Thee that I livę.

I live! O ye who loved me!
Your faith was not in vain ;
Back through the shadowy valley
I come to you again.

Safe in the love that guides me,

With fearless feet I tread

My home is with the angels-
O, say not I am dead!

Not dead! O, no, but lifted
Above all earthly strife;

Now first I know the meaning,
And feel the power of life-
The power to rise uncumbered
By woe, or want, or care;
To breathe fresh inspiration
From pure, celestial air;

To feel that all the tempests
Of human life have passed,
And that my ark, in safety

Rests on the mount at last;
To send my soul's great longings,
Like Noah's dove, abroad,

And find them swift returning,

With signs of peace from God;

To soar in fearless freedom

Through broad, blue, boundless skies

And catch the radiant gleaming

Of love-lit, angel eyes;

To feel the Father's presence

Around me, near or far,

And see His radiant glory
Stretch onward, star by star;-

To feel those grand upliftings That know not space nor time; To hear all discords ending

In harmony sublime;

To know that sin and error

Are dimly understood,

And that which man calls Evil

Is undeveloped Good;

To stand in spell-bound rapture
On some celestial height,

And see God's glorious sunshine
Dispel the shades of night;

To feel that all creation

With love and joy is rife;

This, O my earthly loved ones,

This is Eternal Life!

There, eyes that closed in darkness
Shall open to the morn;

And those whom death had stricken,
Shall find themselves new-born;
The lame shall leap with gladness,
The blind rejoice to see;

The slave shall know no master,
And the prisoner shall be free.

There, the worn and heavy-laden
Their burdens shall lay down;
There, crosses, borne in meekness,

At length shall win the crown;
And lonely hearts that famished
For sympathy and love,
Shall find a free affection

In the angel-home above.

O, children of our Father!

Weep not for those who pass, Like rose-leaves gently scattered, Like dew-drops from the grass. Ay, look not down in sadness,

But fix your gaze on high;