A VOICE FROM HEAVEN.

O, weep not in thy lonely hours, My Mary! weep not so; If thou couldst hear my spirit-voice, Thy tears would cease to flow. I’d tell thee of thy future home, Its pure unfading bliss, Where hearts that once have swell’d with grief Now swell with happiness. I’d tell thee how our angel son Reclines in Jesus’ arms, Or roams with me these heavenly hills, Enraptured with their charms. I’d tell thee how with seraph’s voice We make these arches ring, And sound melodious notes of praise To Heaven’s eternal King. I’d tell thee how with golden wings We fly at his command, Who bought for us this heritage— This fair delightful land. I’d tell thee how in God’s own book I’ve read thy title clear, I know, my own! my still beloved! That I shall see thee here. I’d tell thee of the glorious rest Remaining yet for thee, When with thy loved and sainted ones In Heaven thou shalt be. I’d tell thee of the honor’d place The Savior will prepare, When thou shalt have thy shining crown, And robes of glory wear. I’d tell thee how these ransom’d ones No more shall say farewell, Forever in these realms of joy Unparted may we dwell. I’d tell thee how we long for thee, And soon expect thee here, Where all thy sorrows shall be past, Forgotten every tear. O, weep not in thy lonely hours, My Mary! weep not so; If thou couldst hear my spirit-voice, Thy tears would cease to flow.