Look! they are kneeling—and each brow is covered
With the white hands that press them, while an awe
Rests on their souls, as if above them hovered
The Holy Spirit, visibly, to draw
The young affections of their guileless bosoms,
The ardent hopes which burn within each breast,
From earthly treasures to those faceless blossoms
That wreathe the bowers of Everlasting Rest!
Still—still—as if each spirit held communion
In silence with its God—or else had flown
Away from Earth to seek a closer union
With HIM who sits upon the dazzling Throne,
Before which angels and archangels, bending,
Offer perpetual worship!—while abroad,
Through Heaven’s bright regions, harps with voices blending
Pour loud Hosannas to the LIVING GOD!
A balmy breeze, with fragrance richly laden,
Comes, as from Heaven, to greet those kneeling girls;
And, as it softly passes by, each maiden
Feels its air-fingers dallying with her curls—
Yet heeds it not, unless, perchance her spirit
Deems it a whisper from that better world
Which the pure-hearted only shall inherit
When Earth’s last wrecks shall be in ruin hurled!
Are they not beautiful? Nor voice—nor motion
Is there—and yet those silent worshippers
Feel their hearts burning with as pure devotion
As lip e’er uttered—and the love, which stirs
Each humble spirit, is a flame from Heaven
Lit on the altar of the human heart—
Oh, bright will be the hope that shall be given
To those who choose in youth “the better part!”
Do they—the guiltless—guileless—whose existence
Has been a summer-morning, cloudless, bright,
Do they, while gazing in the forward distance
On future scenes of joyance and delight,
Feel they have sins which need to be forgiven?
That in God’s mercy only they can trust?
If they need grace to fit their souls for Heaven,
Be my proud spirit humbled in the dust!
William Henry Burleigh
