Poems (Ford)/The Beautiful Land
THE BEAUTIFUL LAND.
Beyond the dark river, whose sullen waves
Are carrying evermore
Their freights of beauty and hope and love
Away from this mortal shore,
Stretch flower-crowned valleys green and fair,
Where glorious mansions stand,
Whose gold gates open to welcome all
Who come to that beautiful land.
Are carrying evermore
Their freights of beauty and hope and love
Away from this mortal shore,
Stretch flower-crowned valleys green and fair,
Where glorious mansions stand,
Whose gold gates open to welcome all
Who come to that beautiful land.
Oh, there no storm-king's scowling brow
E'er saddens the eye of noon,
But lilies wave and roses blow
On the breast of an endless June;
While through bright bowers of fadeless bloom
Blow breezes soft and bland,
Breathing immortal youth on all
Who come to that beautiful land.
E'er saddens the eye of noon,
But lilies wave and roses blow
On the breast of an endless June;
While through bright bowers of fadeless bloom
Blow breezes soft and bland,
Breathing immortal youth on all
Who come to that beautiful land.
A flood of glory whose waves of light
Our earth-dimmed sight would drown,
Flows there from the brow that here below
Was pierced with a thorny crown;
With victor's crowns on their radiant brows,
And palms in their stainless hands,
Stand round Him those who through tears and blood
Have passed to that beautiful land.
Our earth-dimmed sight would drown,
Flows there from the brow that here below
Was pierced with a thorny crown;
With victor's crowns on their radiant brows,
And palms in their stainless hands,
Stand round Him those who through tears and blood
Have passed to that beautiful land.
There too are dwelling our worshipped ones
Who walk upon earth no more;
As we strive through grief's dark veil to see
The light of that distant shore,
We catch a gleam of their snowy robes,
As they glide o'er the crystal strand,
And beckon us over death's silent sea
Away to that beautiful land.
Who walk upon earth no more;
As we strive through grief's dark veil to see
The light of that distant shore,
We catch a gleam of their snowy robes,
As they glide o'er the crystal strand,
And beckon us over death's silent sea
Away to that beautiful land.
Soon shall we pass from earth away
On that dark, unebbing tide,
Alone with the boatman cold and pale,
In quest of the farther side;
But, oh, what joy on the shore to feel
The clasp of a friendly hand
That cold distrust can never estrange
Or chill in that beautiful land!
On that dark, unebbing tide,
Alone with the boatman cold and pale,
In quest of the farther side;
But, oh, what joy on the shore to feel
The clasp of a friendly hand
That cold distrust can never estrange
Or chill in that beautiful land!