MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
CAN THE VOICE DIE?
A vision came in the starry night,
When I in slumber lay—
The slumber free from earthly blight
When the soul hath purer sway.
When I in slumber lay—
The slumber free from earthly blight
When the soul hath purer sway.
On the verge of the spirit world I stood
'Mid the holy and the pure;
Around me, light in a living flood,
Whose blaze I could scarce endure.
'Mid the holy and the pure;
Around me, light in a living flood,
Whose blaze I could scarce endure.
I saw the bright form of seraphim,
As I knelt with the forgiven,
And sang the ever-enduring hymn—
The praise of the God of heaven.
As I knelt with the forgiven,
And sang the ever-enduring hymn—
The praise of the God of heaven.
Yet my spirit was sad: alone, alone,
I seemed in that happy sphere;
I pined for a lost familiar tone—
A voice that on earth was dear.
I seemed in that happy sphere;
I pined for a lost familiar tone—
A voice that on earth was dear.
