Classic Poem

To that far land, far beyond storm and cloud, —
To that bright land, where sun doth never set, —
To that life land which has nor tomb nor shroud,
And Brothers meet again who oft have met,
Joyful we go! why should we not be glad?
Joys that had lost their joy await us there,
And nobler mansions than our Craft have made,
And all is permanent, and all is fair.

There we shall see the Master ; here, indeed,
Sometimes we see Him, dimly, doubtfully,
But O, His lineaments we scarcely heed,
So clouded is the soul, so weak the eye!
But there, in Heaven's Orient displayed,
His faithful all around Him we shall meet,
Shall hear, shall see, shall evermore be glad,
Thronging and singing at the Master 's feet.