And far below, unseen for tears,
The river where life disappears,
Uplifts its thunder to my ears.

Canst thou, with thy serener eyes,
Over the flood God's paradise,
Behold in awful beauty rise?

Far off I seem to see thee stand,
Shading rapt eyes with radiant hand,
To scan that unknown glorious land.

The glory of that unseen place,
Gathers and brightens o'er thy face,
And fills thy looks with tender grace.

O, Hope divine '--_I_ would behold
Those shining spires, those streets of gold:
But ah! the waves are deadly cold!

I hear the thunder and the sweep
Of waves; deep calleth unto deep;
The pathway ends, abrupt and steep.

Yet, soft beside that solemn shore,
I hear thy voice above its roar:
"Life is a dream-and it is o'er;

"The night is past--behold the day,