1857.]

A Spirit Dream.

203

A SPIRIT DREAM.

BY J. H. D****.

I SLEPT, and o'er my spirit came a spell,
As softly sweet as those which Angels feel,
When Eden's rivers sing their lullaby.
Methought I rested by a gurgling brook,
Whose gentle wavelets kissed the verdant bank
With lips of burnished silver; then, methought,
The perfume laden breezes sighed amidst
The waving trees bedecked with fadeless flowers,
And o'er my head an unseen spirit sang
A lay as joyous as the notes that well
From purest lips of tuneful Seraphim.

Like this, methought, was once the home of man,
Ere sin's foul blot had stained his virgin soul,
And changed the Earth from Paradise to Hell;
Less fair than heaven it was, but far more sweet
Than all earth's raptures, since their brightest bloom
Was mildewed by the chilling blast of sin.
But, while I pondered on the earth and man,
By angel hands uplifted, I was borne

Through floods of mellow sunlight, till at last
The golden stars that in their courses roll
Seemed like a gilded toy, or like a ball
Thrown feebly by the fingers of a child.

Now soared we upward through the realms of light,
Beyond the crystal spheres, whose music sweet
Doth waft its cadence to the worlds afar,
And, 'neath my feet, a meteor fair and bright
Leapt upward in the fullness of its joy,
While infant stars attuned their sweetest notes,
And hoary comets shook their manes and smiled.
Still upward borne on pinions fleet and strong,
I saw the glory of that central sun,
Around whose throne the universe revolves,
And from whose hot embrace, the madden'd stars
Shoot past the earth, to lave their burning brows
Within the oceans of some distant sphere.
At length we passed through adamantine gates,
Along the streets whose shining walks are paved
With pearls and brighter jewels :-

Ask me not

To write what there I saw, for angel's pen,
Though steeped in angel raptures, ne'er could tell
The joys which crowned my happy Spirit Dream.
My eyes were dazzled by the shining rays,
Which shone from angel crowns, like golden darts
From amethystine quivers; music sweet
Rolled on its waves of liquid melody,
And all was brighter than the mortal eye
Can hope to see, or mind could understand.
I prostrate fell upon the golden floor,
But thunders told me in their deepest tones,

That I alone, of all the countless host,
Should never praise His great and holy name.
Still onward rolled the anthem sweet and strong,
Still brighter shone the gem on angel brows,
And I alone was mute; but in my heart
A stream of praise came wildly gushing forth,
And burned upon my lips, until the chains
Which bound my tongue were broken.

Falling down,
I bathed my face with tears and dared to pray,
That I might haste to some far distant world
To serve His mandates, or His glory show.
Then spake the thunders louder, but a voice,
As soft as spring-tide zephyrs, hushed their sound
And gently blessed my prayer.

Joy filled my breast, And on my heart-strings played, as on a harp. I hasted back to earth,-for Heaven itself, Devoid of praise, were even worse than HellAnd, on the bosom of the earth awoke.

DEPARTED FRIENDS.
WHERE are the gentle friends of youth,
Who have lingered by our side;
Like the frail and tender flowers

They've faded, drooped and died.

Where are the friends of former years,

The early friends of yore,

Who've soothed our sorrows, dried our tears,

Alas they are no more.

No more we'll meet with those we loved,

Fond ones we cherished here,

No more with welcome hearts we'll greet
Our absent ones so dear.

They dwell in a far distant land—

A better World on high.

And with yon spotless, blessed band,
They live no more to die.

We would not call them back again
To this dark world of woe,

And see them suffer grief and pain,
With mortals here below.

Then gather the rose and the lilly fair,
And strew them o'er their tombs;
And count the loved ones happy there,
In their peaceful, hopeful homes.

Aye surely 'tis a blessed Lope-
We all again shall meet;
In Heaven's final blissful home
Our loved ones we will greet.
Where parting will no more be known-
In our lovely home on high-

We'll worship round the Father's throne,
And friends no more shall die.

1857.]

Longings after the Infinite.

205

LONGINGS AFTER THE INFINITE.

BY THE EDITOR.

"O Konnt Ich, doch den Ausgang finden,

Ach, wie fuhlt Ich mich beklukt!"-SCHILLER,

In this beautiful season of life and love, every thing in nature tends upward. The germ of the seed seeks the light. The sap in trees and plants ascends. The flower, on the top of the stalk, having gathered up into itself all impelling powers that have crowded up into it from beneath, bursts in bloom and beauty, looking with sweetest face still upward, and sending its emancipated fragrance toward heaven-grateful incense to the God who made it such a thing of beauty," such "a joy forever." The fishes move up stream, insects leave their cold prisons for the free air, and the birds mount upward and sing as under the very dome of Heaven.

66

The human heart, if rightly in play, feels at this season peculiarly tender drawings upwards. The spirit widens in sympathy with opening nature, and inspired with a peculiar tenderness of gratitude and praise, joins in the general seekings after destiny by which it is surrounded. We take this opportunity of saying something about longings after the infinite. We shall find the basis and the interpretation of all aspirations, both in the kingdom of nature and of grace, in the ascension of Jesus Christ into heaven, and the consequent opening up of the higher world to human longings and hopes.

Like our Saviour's birth, death and resurrection, so also his ascension was for a long time, and in many ways foreshadowed and typified. Heathenism itself is not without its "feelings in the dark" after this glorious fact. With all its degrading and downward tendencies, it produced many earnest aspiring spirits-spirits that felt the stirrings of a higher destiny, and labored to realize the dreams of their hearts.

To whatever source we may trace these suggestions of hope-whether to dim traditions that found their way out into their gloom from revelations made to the Jews; or to the deep soundings from a higher world among the ruins of God's image in them-it is certain that they dreamed of a higher and better state to which their thoughts ascended in the way of earnest aspiration, and into which they longed-if they did not hopeto rise.

With the heathen, as with us, "down" was misery, grave, death, hell, and hopelessness"up," was joy, life, freedom and deliverance. Hence upward they looked, and upward they aspired. Not only did they love to worship in "high places," and build their temples on lofty sites; but they raised their poets, philosophers and heroes to the high honors of Gods, and located them in the regions above.

Much stronger and clearer were these aspirations among the Jewsbecause with them a higher world was a matter of direct and positive revelation. Not only did God come down to walk with men, but angels were their friendly visitors in their tents and in their travels. In the

mystic ladder of Jacob they saw heaven open and the angels of God ascending and descending. They also loved to regard their high and solemn mountain peaks as nearer heaven-yea, Sinai, Horeb, Tabor, Pisgah, were covered by the descending and bowing heavens, and their awfully glorious summits lay in the higher world-on their solemn heights were the foot-treads of the great God!

Then the rising smoke of their incense, the up-lifted hands and the upturned eyes of their priests-all, all pointed their hearts and raised their affections unto the Lord in the heavens-to the land of peace and rest to which they hoped and longed at last to ascend.

Though the gates of Paradise had closed behind them, yet they were taught to look for one who should open the sealed treasure, and wide unfold the gates of bliss. Already did their prophets see the glorious event accomplished in prophetic vision, exclaiming: "Thou hast ascended on high; thou hast led captivity captive; thou hast received gifts for men."

Already, on great and solemn days, when the devout congregation crowded around their altars, were they taught to sing: "Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the king of glory shall come in !"

The same joyful anticipation inspired the words of the 47th Psalm: "O clap your hands, ye people, shout unto God with the voice of triumph. God is gone up with a shout, the Lord with the sound of a trumpet. God reigneth over the heathen: God sitteth upon the throne of his holiness; he is greatly exalted."

The ascension of our Saviour is the fulfillment of all these anticipations. He accomplished what they longed for. He broke through the limits of this narrow earthly sphere. Before him the eternal gates did lift themselves up, the everlasting doors gave way. He entered as the king of

glory. He took possession of the heavens for us all.

Not only are the unconscious longings of paganism explained, and the foreshadowings of Judaism fulfilled, in the fact of His ascension; but still, the deepest longings and aspirations of christian hearts are interpreted and strengthened by it.

In many ways are our hearts and hopes taught to aspire, and allured upwards. There are no doubt dull and sordid spirits in whom a higher world has no response, as there are dull dead waters that give not back the shining heavens. In the world of beauty which lies around us, in the hope of May and the glory of June, there are things of death amidst the life and beauty-dead trees in the green forest-dry stumps in the verdant meadow-cold stones amid the springing clover-skunk-weed beside the lovely violet-and the ghostly death-boding owl takes up its dreadful bass before the last song-bird of evening has finished its cheerful lay of praise and love. In like manner there are narrow, miserly, obtuse, dull, debauched and degraded spirits, who have no aspirationswhose thoughts are on a level with the earth, and who love only what is beneath them. But there are also those whose hearts and thoughts ever rise-restless till they rest in heaven! This is man's destiny. He is made for heaven. Even in his fallen state-with God's image in ruins in him-like the fragments of a broken mirror he sends back some rays of light towards the source. But as fast and as far as this image is re

1857.]

Longings after the Infinile.

207

stored through Christ will he long more ardently for his high home, and his eternal rest. Then "in hours of solemn jubilee—

"Then wake

Stirrings of deep divinity within,

And, like the flickerings of a mouldering flame,
Yearnings of a hereafter. Thou it is,

When the world's din and passion's voice are still,
Calling thy wanderer home."

Man is the only being made to face heaven. The very word which signifies MAN in Greek, means "one that turns his face upwards." It is also a fact that the eye of man is not only more easily turned upwards from a horizontal position, but that a far greater angle can be taken in upwards than downward, without moving the face. This fact, to the thoughtful, is full of deep significance.

A spirit rightly attuned takes in the infinite through every sense; and through every sense is awakened to longings after the infinite. As the inner chambers of a smooth-lipped sea shell sound with the voices around it, so the spirit, in its inner holy of holies, through the senses, makes hymns of the echoes of the universe-anthems from far-off choirs, familiar voices that call it home.

Thus for instance, there are sights which no awakened spirit can look upon without feeling itself drawn into the infinite, as naturally and instinctively as a miser is attracted toward his gold, a hungry man to his food, or a thirsty man to the fountain. Such is the effect-who has not felt it of the starry heavens moving and shining in solemn silence above us the red fading glory of the setting sun, and still more the setting moon, especially on the sea, on the wide prairie, or in a foreign land. Such is the view of a wide land-scape, or deep valley, viewed from some lofty place the sight of distant mountains, the wide expanse of the rolling sea, or the boundless desolations of a desert, the sight of a vast cathedral by moonlight, or any tower, column or arch. Yea, this effect is even produced by the smaller objects of beauty that rise not into the sublime-the twittering heat over the fields in summer, the rosy fields of blooming clover, the waving grain fields before harvest, and the browu woods and golden mountains in Autumn.

The same effects are produced through the ear. There are sounds in which the spirit hears the voices of distant worlds, the music of other spheres, the soundings of the infinite. Such is the cooing of the dove, the mystic notes of the cuckoo, the sighings of the willow, the sound of the mountains, the dirges of the Autumnal forest, and the deep cadences of the sea.

There are even instruments of art, the notes of which have all this mystic power over the associations and longings of the spirit-the flute the dulcimer, the æolian strings, and some departments of the organ. So also there are certain tones of the human voice, and certain harmonies produced by the true masters of the art, which find access to the most delicate tissues of the spirit-touch it in those deep recesses where it lies nearest the unseen and infinite, and causes it to tremble as under angelic touch, and vibrate with the harmonies of heaven.

"Thus, in a season of calm weather,

Though inland far we be,

Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither."

O these are the hemmed and repressed powers in us that long for an