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1162

P. M.

The sun-bright clime.

Have you heard, have you heard of that sun-bright clime,

Undimmcd by sorrow, unhurt by time;

Where age hath no power o’er the fadeless frame—

Where the eye is fire, and the heart is flame—

Have you heard of that sun-bright clime?

2 A river of water gushes there,

’Mid flowers of beauty strangely fair,

And a thousand wings are hovering o’er

The dazzling wave and the golden shore

That are seen in that sun-bright clime.

3 Millions of forms, all clothed in white,

In garments of beauty, clear and bright,

There dwell in their own immortal bowers,

’Mid fadeless hues of countless flowers

That bloom in that sun-bright clime.

4 Ear hath not heard, and eye hath not seen,

Their swelling songs, and their changeless sheen;

Their ensigns are waving, their banners unfurl,

O’er jasper walls and gates of pearl,

That are fixed in that sun-bright clime.

5 But far, far away is that sinless clime,

Undimmed by sorrow, unhurt by time;

Where, amid all things bright and fair, is given

The home of the just, and its name is heaven—

The name of that sun-bright clime.

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