Lines, Written upon the Death of Two Sisters.

What heav'nly music greets mine ear! What seraph's voice is that I hear, Breathing in numbers soft and low? Methinks th' angelic strains I know. Dearest sister, come away, There's nought on earth that's worth thy stay; Then, sister, linger not, but haste The joys of paradise to taste. The songs of praise we utter here, Have ne'er been heard by mortal ear; Nor mortal eye hath ever seen "The fields array'd in living green." The gates of precious stone unfold, The streets are paved with shining gold; Pure crystal streams of water flow, And trees of fadeless verdure grow. There is no sighing here, nor tears, No guilty thoughts, no doubts or fears; But love is pure and never dies, And songs of endless praise arise. Then sister, linger not, but come, Angels await to guard thee home; Here, in the mansions of the blest, Here shall thy weary soul find rest. Sister, I come, thy cheering voice Bids my whole heart and soul rejoice; Fain would my ling'ring spirit rise On wings of Faith beyond the skies. I linger but a little space, To gaze upon my husband's face; My gentle infant's lips to press, And fold my first born to my breast. My mother's voice once more to hear,-- Once more to see a brother dear, A sister's parting kiss receive,-- Then, dearest sister, I will leave. E'en now my clouded senses feel A heav'nly transport o'er them steal; My sight grows dim, thick comes my breath; Sister, I come, for this is death.