I DREAMT last night of Eden—
⁠The Eden early made:
Where saints await their guerdon
⁠Till all on earth shall fade.
The lambkin and the lion
⁠Lay couched in happy sleep,
And all the songs of Zion
⁠Were echoing true and deep.

The centre of the Garden
⁠Was filled by the Tree:
The Tree of Human Pardon
⁠That grew on Calvary.
It bore no Burden of Divine,
⁠No type of Heaven's Loss,
But branches of the Only Vine
⁠Were wreathed about the Cross.

The leaves for healing nations
⁠Were clustered on the boughs:
With laurel of salvations,
⁠That grows for martyr brows.