Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Those Eternal Bowers
Those Eternal Bowers.
Those eternal bowers
Man hath never trod,
Those unfading flowers
Round the throne of God:
Who may hope to gain them
After weary fight?
Who at length attain them,
Clad in robes of white?
Man hath never trod,
Those unfading flowers
Round the throne of God:
Who may hope to gain them
After weary fight?
Who at length attain them,
Clad in robes of white?
He who gladly barters
All on earthly ground;
He who, like the martyrs,
Says, "I will be crowned:"
He whose one oblation
Is a life of love,
Clinging to the nation
Of the blest above.
All on earthly ground;
He who, like the martyrs,
Says, "I will be crowned:"
He whose one oblation
Is a life of love,
Clinging to the nation
Of the blest above.
Shame upon you, legions
Of the heavenly King,
Denizens of regions
Past imagining!
What! with pipe and tabor
Pool away the light?
When He bids you labour—
When He tells you, "Fight!"
Of the heavenly King,
Denizens of regions
Past imagining!
What! with pipe and tabor
Pool away the light?
When He bids you labour—
When He tells you, "Fight!"
While we do our duty,
Struggling through the tide.
Whisper Thou of beauty
On the other side!
Oh, heed not the story
Of this life's distress:
Oh, the future glory!
Oh, the loveliness!
Struggling through the tide.
Whisper Thou of beauty
On the other side!
Oh, heed not the story
Of this life's distress:
Oh, the future glory!
Oh, the loveliness!