Songs of praise the angels sang, Heav'n with alleluias rang, when creation was begun, when God spoke and it was done.

Joys too exquisite to last, And yet more exquisite when past.

There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; A whole eternity of love, Form'd for the good alone; And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere.

The Dead are like the stars by day; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky.

Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.

While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue, But coyly linger'd on the thorn.

Time is eternity begun.