| I THOUGHT to meet no more, so dreary seem'd | |
| Death's interposing veil, and thou so pure, | |
| Thy place in Paradise | |
| Beyond where I could soar; | |
| |
| Friend of this worthless heart! but happier thoughts | 5 |
| Spring like unbidden violets from the sod, | |
| Where patiently thou tak'st | |
| Thy sweet and sure repose. | |
| |
| The shadows fall more soothing: the soft air | |
| Is full of cheering whispers like thine own; | 10 |
| While Memory, by thy grave, | |
| Lives o'er thy funeral day; | |
| |
| The deep knell dying down, the mourners' pause, | |
| Waiting their Saviour's welcome at the gate.— | |
| Sure with the words of Heaven | 15 |
| Thy spirit met us there, | |
| |
| And sought with us along th' accustom'd way | |
| The hallow'd porch, and entering in, beheld | |
| The pageant of sad joy | |
| So dear to Faith and Hope. | 20 |
| |
| O! hadst thou brought a strain from Paradise | |
| To cheer us, happy soul, thou hadst not touch'd | |
| The sacred springs of grief | |
| More tenderly and true, | |
| |
| Than those deep-warbled anthems, high and low, | 25 |
| Low as the grave, high as th' Eternal Throne, | |
| Guiding through light and gloom | |
| Our mourning fancies wild, | |
| |
| Till gently, like soft golden clouds at eve | |
| Around the western twilight, all subside | 30 |
| Into a placid faith, | |
| That even with beaming eye | |
| |
| Counts thy sad honours, coffin, bier, and pall; | |
| So many relics of a frail love lost, | |
| So many tokens dear | 35 |
| Of endless love begun. | |
| |
| Listen! it is no dream: th' Apostles' trump | |
| Gives earnest of th' Archangel's;—calmly now, | |
| Our hearts yet beating high | |
| To that victorious lay | 40 |
| |
| (Most like a warrior's, to the martial dirge | |
| Of a true comrade), in the grave we trust | |
| Our treasure for awhile: | |
| And if a tear steal down, | |
| |
| If human anguish o'er the shaded brow | 45 |
| Pass shuddering, when the handful of pure earth | |
| Touches the coffin-lid; | |
| If at our brother's name, | |
| |
| Once and again the thought, 'for ever gone,' | |
| Come o'er us like a cloud; yet, gentle spright, | 50 |
| Thou turnest not away, | |
| Thou know'st us calm at heart. | |
| |
| One look, and we have seen our last of thee, | |
| Till we too sleep and our long sleep be o'er. | |
| O cleanse us, ere we view | 55 |
| That countenance pure again, | |
| |
| Thou, who canst change the heart, and raise the dead! | |
| As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour, | |
| Be ready when we meet, | |
| With Thy dear pardoning words. | 60 |
