I had a dream, a varied dream:
Before my ravished sight The city of my Lord arose, With all its love and light.
The music of a myriad harps Flowed out with sweet accord;And saints were casting down their crowns In homage to our Lord.
My heart leaped up with untold joy, Life's toil and pain were o'er;My weary feet at last had found The bright and restful shore.
Just as I reached the gates of light, Ready to enter in, From earth arose a fearful cry Of sorrow and of sin.
I turned, and saw behind me surge A wild and stormy sea;And drowning men were reaching out Imploring hands to me.
And ev'ry lip was blanched with dread, And moaning for relief;The music of the golden harps Grew fainter for their grief.
Let me return, I quickly said, Close to the pearly gate;My work is with these wretched ones, So wrecked and desolate.
An angel smiled and gently said:
This is the gate of life, Wilt thou return to earth's sad scenes, Its weariness and strife.
