he music.
'Whence these songs of mirth and gladness?'
Asketh thus his angel escort.
'Where and whence these sounds melodious?
Whose are all these festive voices?
What the cause of such rejoicing?'
And the spirits answer thuswise:
'These are bands of angels singing
In the happy land of Blessing,
In the lofty halls of gladness.
Seraphs from their golden harps draw
Notes to swell the songs of gladness.
These are songs of glad rejoicings
For another pilgrim nearing,--
One escaped the land of bondage.
This the source of these rejoicings.'
Ere this answer hath been spoken,
Lo! before them rise the portals
Of the holy land of Blessing.
This the city he hath heard of
In such sweet and wondrous stories,
Whence he longed in patient waiting
To arrive at, now before him.
How enraptured he beholdeth
All its dazzling brightness spreading,
As he nearer comes and nearer
To the haven of his journey,
Thousand times ten thousands grander
Than his brightest fancies thought of.
Sparkling, bounding in its brightness,
Comes the soft and cheering fair light,
Rolling o'er the diamond bulwarks,
Flowing through the golden portals,
Like ten thousand fairy sunbeams.
All the bulwarks are of diamond,
And of purest gold the portals;
Paved of brightest gems the courts are;
Blended in a noble grandeur,
Sapphire blocks and blocks of ruby,
Emerald bars and bars of opal,
Rows of amethyst and topaz,
Sparkling in their golden framework.
Lofty are the walls and mighty,
Rising unto heights unmeasured,
Mighty, strong beyond conception.
Round the outer palisading
Of the diamond walls are watching
Many hosts from the Sabaoth
Of the King of all these bright realms.
Sleepless are their eyes and piercing,
Terrible they are in battle;
Nothing can uphold against them.
They are clad in mail of pure white,
Brilliant and of dazzling splendor;
Helmets have they, white and burnished,
Feathery white plumes in them waving;
Brilliant also are their breastplates,
And their shields, with 'Love' engraven
On the front in golden letters,
Are most gorgeous in beholding
When the light streams full upon them;
And destruction is the weapon
They employ to guard the city;
Awful is the havoc thereby
To the foe who dares approach them.
Now before the golden gateway,
Which with massive bars is builded,
Stands the pilgrim with his escort;
And they sound a mighty trumpet,
That the strains in thrilling grandeur
Flow sonorous through the kingdom.
Then behold t