Classic Poem

Ascend, Beloved, to the joy;
The festal-day has come;
To-night the Lamb doth feast his own,
To-night He with His Bride sits down,
To-night puts on the spousal crown,
In the great upper room.

Ascend, Beloved, to the love;
This is the day of days;
To-night the bridal-song is sung,
To-night ten thousand harps are strung,
In sympathy with heart and tongue,
Unto the Lamb's high praise.

The festal lamps are lighting now
In the great marriage-hall;
By angel-hands the board is spread,
By angel-hands the sacred bread
Is on the golden table laid;
The King His own doth call.

The gems are gleaming from the roof,
Like stars in night's round dome;
The festal wreaths are hanging there,
The festal fragrance fills the air,
And flowers of heaven, divinely fair,
Unfold their happy bloom.

Long, long deferred, now come at last,
The Lamb's glad wedding-day;
The guests are gathering to the feast,
The seats in heavenly order placed,
The royal throne above the rest;—
How bright the new array!

Sorrow and sighing are no more,
The weeping hours are past;
To-night the waiting will be done,
To-night the wedding-robe put on,
The glory and the joy begun;
The crown has come at last.

Without, within, is light, is light;
Around, above, is love, is love;
We enter, to go out no more,
We raise the song unsung before,
We doff the sackcloth that we wore;
For all is joy above.

Ascend, Beloved, to the life;
Our days of death are o'er;
Mortality has done its worst,
The fetters of the tomb are burst,
The last has now become the first,
For ever, evermore.

Ascend, Beloved, to the feast;
Make haste, thy day is come;
Thrice blest are they, the Lamb doth call,
To share the heavenly festival,
In the new Salem's palace-hall,
Our everlasting home!