Death is a stage in human progress, to be passed as we would pass from childhood to youth, or from youth to manhood, and with the same consciousness … - Edmund Sears

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From Angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold;
"Peace on the earth, good will to man
From Heaven’s all gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Calm on the listening ear of night Come Heaven’s melodious strains,
Where wild Judea stretches far Her silver-mantled plains.

For lo! the days are hastening on, By prophet-bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years, Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splendors fling
And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing.