The pleasures in their soft robes fly With angel wings adown the sky, And rapture lulls to sweet repose, At eventide. Ah, well-a-day! Life's weary cry, And all its curse and care shall die, When Age on downy couches throws His weary limbs and only knows The tender dreams of bye-and-bye, At eventide! WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES. When Christmas comes, what pleasures spring From drooping hearts on happy wing, Like joyous birds that soaring rise From hidden coverts to the skies. And echo in the chimes that ring! Glad millions in wild rapture sing Hosannaed hopes of welcoming, While praises blend in harmonies, When Christmas comes. Ah, happy hours! Around them cling The dearest joys that life may bring, And all the world's despairing cries Are soothed to sleep with lullabies That banish every bitter thing, When Christmas comes! WHEN THOU ART NEAR. When thou art near, with gladdest grace My heart is held in fond embrace, For laughing lips with raptures bless The toils and tears of my distress, And woes within me have no place. The halting hours with hurried pace Whirl wildly on through happy space, And life is light with happiness, When thou art near. Like mortals whom an angel race Renews with gladness face to face, I thrill with Love's unseen caress That holy hands upon me press, And Heaven's pleasures all I trace, When thou art near. HE SLEEPS AT LAST. He sleeps at last! The vales of rest Are waiting for the war-worn breast, And glorious angels fondly spread The sweetest roses for his bed. While countless millions call him blest. Fame welcomes him with glad behest, While garlands on his brow are pressed, And laurels cluster o'er his head; He sleeps at last. O, deep the sorrows here confessed, Where Freedom makes eternal quest! The wondrous chief that proudly led The long, blue lines that fought and bled, In peace is now no more distressed; He sleeps at last! WHEN FORTUNES FROWN. When fortunes frown, the woes, bedight With brooding shadows, bring the night, While dismal sorrows darkness dole, And disappointments rise and roll Above the longings for the light. Despair, with hands that curse and blight, Sows weakness in the hearts of might Until they falter near the goal, When fortunes frown. But onward still! The valleys white With Heaven's blossoms are in sight; The Holy Mountains, knoll on knoll, Are waiting for the Master Soul, And he shall conquer for the right, When fortunes frown! WHEN WE SHALL MEET. When we shall meet, I strangely know The mad emotions that shall flow Across my heart all quivering, Beneath the raptures he shall bring From angel years that gladdened so.