TWO CITIES ABOVE THE CLOUDS.
HERE is a city, children,
Above the clouds, we're told,
Where the rocky Andes wrap their heads
In snows eternal and cold.
A mountain is its foundation;
Its steeples, the lofty spires
Of tall peaks, dressed in snowy robes,
With veins of volcanic fire.
Its dwellings are built of
"adobe,"
With walls made firm and wide;
And all unnoticed the storm may rage
Below on the mountainside.
But deep in the mountain's bosom
Entombed in the rocky cell,
Are struggling fires whose thunders loud
Of ominous dangers tell;
As oft in their struggle for freedom
They knock at their prison bars,
Till the hard walls quiver beneath the strokes,
And the mountain heaves and jars.
And the children of lofty Quito,
Their faces pale with woe,
In terror gaze on their trembling homes
And the rocking earth below.
Far, far above earthly vision
And the hills by mortals trod,
Above the storms and above the clouds,
Is builded the City of God;
Its foundation, the fair Mount Zion,
Glittering with jewels bright, -
While above, the pure and jasper walls
Reflect all their dazzling light.
Twelve are the pearly portals
Which ope to a lovelier scene,—
The golden walks, the Tree of Life,
And the River that rolls between.
There are the "many mansions"
Of workmanship divine,
Over whose latticed porches wide
Immortal flowers twine.
Shadows and darkness forever
Are chased from that city away;
For God's throne of glory that
city crowns,
And the Lamb is its lasting day.
Fullness of joys eternal
Its children shall ever know,
When they gather at last in those dwellings fair,
While their songs of praise shall flow
In one long chorus of rapture
To Him who led the way
Their feet have trod to the Mount of God
And the city of endless day.
EMMA L. REA.