THERE MUST BE HEAVEN.
THIS life seems not the blessed thing
That some are ever chanting;
Our joys must boast a higher spring
Or something will be wanting.
Why do we seek in hearts a shrine
For thoughts and deeds victorious,
And burn with yearnings all divine
To make our memory glorious?
Where reigns the Lord Eternal;
Where crowns to sighing souls are given,
And bliss for ever vernal.
Nature’s gay forms and beauties change,
But not a leaf can perish;
Their essences in circles range,
And still existences cherish.
The soul – the soul can mock at death
And pangs which flesh discloses,
And switch a bright undying wreath
From flames, like beds of roses.
Where reigns the Lord Eternal;
Where crowns to martyr brows are given,
And bliss for ever vernal.
Good men oft falter spirit-sore,
With health and fortune failing;
While robbers of God’s darling poor
On seas of gold are sailing.
Genius, virtue, learning, fame,
Are vain illusions counted;
And men are homaged who through shame
And wrong to power have mounted.
Where reigns the Lord Eternal;
Where crowns to noble men are given,
And bliss for ever vernal.
When our sweet friends are clasped by death,
Our parent-jewels taken,
Our cherub-flowers from love’s fair wreath
Mid dead brown leaflets shaken.
The future seems to feel the blow
That leaves us broken-hearted;
But we can catch a golden glow
From sunsets long departed.
Where reigns the Lord Eternal;
Where crowns to faithful ones are given,
And bliss for ever vernal.
How many stars of thought grow dim,
Ere told was half their story,
Who rivalled e’en the seraphim
In inspiration’s glory!
They fought like gods through battle’s brunt,
Nor saw hope’s glad to-morrow;
Go write upon each fallen front ---
“His life went down in sorrow.”
Where reigns the Lord Eternal;
Where crowns to real worth are given,
And bliss for ever vernal.
Flash thy proud torch, Immortal Sun!
Illume heaven’s grand dominions,
And when life’s spirit task is done,
Embrace me with thy pinions.
The poet’s page may then outshine
King’s coronation splendour,
And all these bitter tears of mine
Gleam in thy rainbow tender.
Where reigns the Lord Eternal;
Where crowns to aching hearts are given,
And bliss for ever vernal.
Title:There Must Be Heaven
Author:Sheldon Chadwick
Publication:The Blackburn Times
Published in:Blackburn
Date:April 18, 1863
Commentary
This religious poem by Sheldon Chadwick suggests that the poor defer their reward until the afterlife. It is typical of a particular type of Christian teaching which was popular during the nineteenth century but became particularly prevalent during the Cotton Famine as the lack of political agency either of the working classes or of the middle classes in the face of the scale and timeframe of the crisis led to a sense of resignation for some. Religious succour acted as an important social emollient, encouraging not just acceptance of one’s economic lot, but the avoidance of crime and embrace of moral purity. – SR