Fishers Of Men.

I had a dream, a varied dream:          Before my ravished sight      The city of my Lord arose,          With all its love and light.      The music of a myriad harps          Flowed out with sweet accord;      And saints were casting down their crowns          In homage to our Lord.      My heart leaped up with untold joy,          Life's toil and pain were o'er;      My weary feet at last had found          The bright and restful shore.      Just as I reached the gates of light,          Ready to enter in,      From earth arose a fearful cry          Of sorrow and of sin.      I turned, and saw behind me surge          A wild and stormy sea;      And drowning men were reaching out          Imploring hands to me.      And ev'ry lip was blanched with dread,          And moaning for relief;      The music of the golden harps          Grew fainter for their grief.      Let me return, I quickly said,          Close to the pearly gate;      My work is with these wretched ones,          So wrecked and desolate.      An angel smiled and gently said:          This is the gate of life,      Wilt thou return to earth's sad scenes,          Its weariness and strife,