Across the River

WHEN for me the silent oarParts the Silent River,And I stand upon the shoreOf the strange Forever,Shall I miss the loved and known?Shall I vainly seek mine own?

Mid the crowd that come to meetSpirits sin-forgiven,—Listening to their echoing feetDown the streets of heaven,—Shall I know a footstep nearThat I listen, wait for here?

Then will one approach the brinkWith a hand extended,One whose thoughts I loved to thinkEre the veil was rended,Saying "Welcome! we have died,And again are side by side."

Saying, "I will go with thee,That thou be not lonely,To yon hills of mystery:I have waited onlyUntil now, to climb with theeYonder hills of mystery."

Can the bonds that make us hereKnow ourselves immortal,Drop away, like foliage sear,At life's inner portal?What is holiest belowMust forever live and grow.

I shall love the angels well,After I have found themIn the mansions where they dwell,With the glory round them.But at first, without surprise,Let me look in human eyes.

Step by step our feet must goUp the holy mountain;Drop by drop, within us flow,Life's unfailing fountain.Angels sing with crowns that burn;We shall have a song to learn.

He who on our earthly pathBids us help each other—Who his Well-beloved hathMade our Elder Brother—Will but clasp the chain of loveCloser, when we meet above.

Therefore dread I not to goO'er the Silent River.Death, thy hastening oar I know;Bear me, thou Life-giver,Through the waters, to the shore,Where mine own have gone before!