FAREWELL, farewell, thou lovely babe,
Thy sufferings all are o’er,
Thy spirit now has winged its flight
To Canaan’s peaceful shore.
Why should thy friends deplore their loss,
Why mourn that thou art gone
To brighter worlds beyond the sky,
Where sickness is unknown.
Thou wert indeed a tender plant,
Too fair to linger here,
In such a barren wilderness,
Where all is lone and drear.
That blessed One who gave thee life,
Has called thee hence away,
To bloom more sweet in Paradise,
Where flowers can ne’er decay.
Thy parents loved and prized thee well,
Esteemed thee as a boon,
They little thought their precious flower,
Would be recalled so soon.
But He who gave has seen it fit
To take that gift away,
“Yet blessed be His holy name,”
Still would we wish to say.
We sat and watched thy feeble frame
Grow weaker every hour,
We saw thee hang thy little head,
Like some fair drooping flower;
And when the last sad moment came,
How did’st thou gasp for breath,
Then closed thy little eyes in sleep—
The peaceful sleep of death.
Peaceful, indeed, it is to thee,
Forever free from harm,
Lodged in a loving Saviour’s breast,
And folded in His arm.
Sing, sing His praises, little one,
Nor cease thy sweet employ,
We would not wish to call thee back,
And rob thee of thy joy.
Oh, happy babe, adieu! adieu!
Fain now we’d follow thee,
To that bright world where thou art gone,
But no, that may not be.
A little longer we may tread
These thorny paths below,
Until our Saviour calls us home,
Then joyfully we’ll go.
Yes, gladly will we all forsake
To be with Him we love,
To chant our dear Redeemer’s praise
In nobler strains above.
There, clothed in robes of spotless white,
For evermore to dwell:
Oh! happy day, ’twill soon appear,
Till then, sweet babe, farewell.