The Chamber called Peace

ON a hill-top, divested of trouble, I rested,One blue, starry night,In a fair eastern chamber, where vines strove to clamberAnd play in the light.There star-beams, uncertain, crept down through a curtainOf thin, airy fleece;There, veiling her brightness in silvery whiteness,The moonlight, caressing, stole in with a blessing,To the chamber called Peace.

The mountains surrounding, with radiance abounding,In the broad blaze of day,Encircled my spirit, to strengthen and cheer it,When the night-purple layLike a mantle upon them, and silence had won them,Bold prophets, to ceaseFrom their unfinished story of Infinite Glory:But its echo, low-breathing, like incense came wreathingThe chamber called Peace.

Though dripping November had quenched the last emberOf autumn's red fire,A presence enchanted the forest yet haunted;It could not expire:It lit the leaves, flying from winds feebly sighingFor summer's decease;Touched the birches white-fingered, that silently lingered,Where pine-choirs were sending an anthem unendingThrough the chamber called Peace.

In a still flood of amber, Dawn entered the chamber,The sleeper to rouse.A rose-cloud passed slowly,—a messenger holy,At pause for the vowsOf pilgrims awaking;—then lifting and breakingFrom a rich, robing fleece,Like an Eye fondly glowing, a Heart overflowing,The sun, proud and tender, lit up with full splendorThe chamber called Peace.

In that white, wayside dwelling, one pilgrim was swellingHer heavenward lay.The strength of the mountains, the joy of their fountains,Had gladdened her stay:The pine-trees' deep sighing, the wind's low re- plying,For her soon would cease;But a holier singing the angels were bringingTo her dawn-lighted chamber, all whiteness and amber,Her chamber called Peace.

O, joy was it, staying where angels were playingThe sweet airs of heavenTo one blest immortal, whose rest at the portalHalf open, was given.While we, scarcely grieving, awaited her leaving,Her hour of release,Hills and heavens around us, like walls seemed to bound us,Of a Home all unblighted, a Mansion love-lighted,A chamber called Peace.

For, on earth or in heaven, to true hearts is givenOne quiet abode;One mighty Arm guards them, one blessing rewards them,—The Presence of God!The stars in declining fail not of their shining,Through daylight's increase:They who pass on before us leave dawn breaking o'er us,Lighting up, through death's grating, our chamber of waiting,Our chamber called Peace.