The Coronation

A grand coronation is near!
But who is to hallow the rite?
On whom is the crown to appear?
And who is to witness the sight?

That splendor no mortal must see,
Nor join in a throng so august;
For all who are there will be free
From sorrow, from stain and from dust!

The streets will have pavements of gold
Which the glorious company tread;
The King will the diadem hold
To place on his follower's head.

For he, who so feeble and pale
On the pillow of death lowly lies,
Shall find that his path through the vale
Leads out to a life in the skies.

And when his pure forehead is crowned
With light that is never to fade,
The harps of the angels shall sound—
The treasures above be displayed.

The righteous has now but to die;
The soldier has finished his fight;
His grand coronation is nigh,
But earth must not witness the sight.