HUSHED are those lips, their earthly song is ended,
The singer sleeps at last;
While I sit gazing at her armchair vacant,
And think of days long past.
The room still echoes with the old-time music,
As singing soft and low
Those grand, sweet hymns, the Christian’s consolation,
She rocks her to and fro.
Some that can stir the heart like shouts of triumph,
Of loud toned trumpet’s call,
Bidding the people prostrate fall before Him,
“AND CROWN HIM — LORD OF ALL.”
And tender notes, filled with melodious rapture,
That leaned upon His Word,
Rose in those strains of solemn, deep affection,
I love Thy kingdom, Lord.”
Safe hidden in the wondrous “Rock of Ages,”
She bade farewell to fear;
Sure that her Lord would always gently lead her,
She read her title clear.
Joyful she saw “From Greenland’s icy mountains,”
The Gospel flag unfurled;
And knew by faith “The morning light is breaking.”
Over a sinful world.
“There is a fountain.” how the tones triumphant
Rose in victorious strains!
“Filled with that precious blood, for all the ransomed
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins.”
Dear saint in heavenly mansions long since folded
Safe in God’s fostering love,
She joins with rapture in the blissful chorus
Of those bright choirs above.
There, where no tears are known, no pain, nor sorrow,
Safe beyond Jordan’s roll,
She lives forever with her blessed Jesus
The Lover of her soul.
ANON.