“I WILL LIFT UP MINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS.”

I am pale with sick desire,

For my heart is far away

From this world's fitful fire

And this world's waning day;

In a dream it overleaps

A world of tedious ills

To where the sunshine sleeps

On the everlasting hills.—

Say the Saints: There Angels ease us

Glorified and white.

They say: We rest in Jesus,

Where is not day or night.

My soul saith: I have sought

For a home that is not gained,

I have spent yet nothing bought,

Have laboured but not attained;

My pride strove to mount and grow,

And hath but dwindled down;

My love sought love, and lo!

Hath not attained its crown.—

Say the Saints: Fresh souls increase us,

None languish or recede.

They say: We love our Jesus,

And He loves us indeed.

I cannot rise above,

I cannot rest beneath,

I cannot find out love,

Or escape from death;

Dear hopes and joys gone by

Still mock me with a name;

My best belovèd die,

And I cannot die with them.—

Say the Saints: No deaths decrease us,

Where our rest is glorious.

They say: We live in Jesus,

Who once died for us.

O my soul, she beats her wings

And pants to fly away

Up to immortal things

In the heavenly day:

Yet she flags and almost faints;

Can such be meant for me?—

Come and see, say the Saints.

Saith Jesus: Come and see.

Say the Saints: His pleasures please us

Before God and the Lamb.

Come and taste My sweets, saith Jesus:

Be with Me where I am.