MUSINGS IN THE NIGHT.
When, in the silence of the night,
Through all the dazzling fields of light,
My spirit takes her trackless flight,
And rises freer than the wind,
Leaving my house of clay behind,—
Methinks on this small spot of earth,
Where loving parents hailed my birth,
I look with tenderness and love;
And thus I moralize above:
Dear native home! seen from afar,
Thou lookest like a twinkling star.
Where are the sins that stain thy breast?
The sorrows that disturb thy rest?
The restless tide of misery here,
No longer murmurs on my ear;
But, calmly hanging on the air,
And all so still, and bright and fair,
Thou lookest like a thing of light,
Lending thy glories to the night.
And as the solemn hymn I hear,
Which ever rolls from sphere to sphere,
Through all the dazzling fields of light,
My spirit takes her trackless flight,
And rises freer than the wind,
Leaving my house of clay behind,—
Methinks on this small spot of earth,
Where loving parents hailed my birth,
I look with tenderness and love;
And thus I moralize above:
Dear native home! seen from afar,
Thou lookest like a twinkling star.
Where are the sins that stain thy breast?
The sorrows that disturb thy rest?
The restless tide of misery here,
No longer murmurs on my ear;
But, calmly hanging on the air,
And all so still, and bright and fair,
Thou lookest like a thing of light,
Lending thy glories to the night.
And as the solemn hymn I hear,
Which ever rolls from sphere to sphere,
