Classic Poem

I AM going a lonely journey, to a country far away,
And only wait for a summons that may arrive to-day;
I have never seen that country, but they tell me it is fair,
And most of my friends and kindred have long been living there.
Some went in innocent childhood, some when their hair was gray;
Some left us in chill December, and some in flowery May;
Some went ere their little fingers had learned to toil for bread,
And some when their hearts were broken, and Hope and Joy were dead.
I have waited, wished to join them, for many a weary year,
But when'er I think of starting, my heart grows weak with fear,
I am sure the land is fairer than any my eyes have seen,
But dread a nameless something in the way that lies between;
For the way leads through a valley of shadows, cold and gray,
From the sound of human voices, from the blessed light of day;
Leads over a lonely river, with never an ebb or flow,
Hung round with ghostly shadows no human soul may know.
But when my heart is weary of sorrow and suffering sore,
I long for the rest and blessing of that dim and distant shore:
I long for the rest and blessing, but never, quite, can say
“My work is all completed; I am ready to go to-day.”
I shall have no need of money, nor costly clothes to wear;
My raiment is provided, and a friend has paid my fare.
He is waiting to receive me, and give a title deed
To a mansion fair, and fitted with everything I need.
There is no more death nor sickness, nor sorrow, pain nor care,
In that land beyond the river. O, would that I were, there!