Classic Poem

The Garden that I love is full of Light;
—It lies upon the sloping of a hill,
Where Dawn first stirs the curtains of the Night,
—And the breeze whispers when the Noon is still.

The garden that I love is full of Peace;
—The voices of the vale are faint and far,
The busy murmurs of the highway cease,
—And silently, at evening, comes the Star.

The garden that I love is full of Dreams;
—Visions of joy gone by, and bliss that waits,
Beyond the furthest verge of sunset gleams,
—With the wide opening of the Golden Gates.

The garden that I love is full of Rest;
—God's own fair Acre, where His dear ones lie,
In the safe shelter of the kind earth's breast,
—Waiting His Easter dawning up the sky.

There may I rest, asleep with them awhile,
—There may I wake, with them, that glorious Day,
When, in the sunshine of the Master's smile,
—Sorrow and sighing shall be swept away!