The Spirit of the living God,
That dwelt within that form awhile,
Hath beautified his late abode,
And graced it with that heavenly smile.
E. D.
'Tis strange that I can calmly bear
To kiss that brow, so pale and chill,
Nor wish that life, but lately there,
Were sparkling in those features still.
In childhood I have wept to think
The day would come when thou must die;
The thought upon my heart would sink,
And fill with clouds my sunniest sky.
Yet thou hat died! And though I weep,
Dear mother, as I gaze on thee,
I would not break thy placid sleep,
Nor ask thine eye to gaze on me.
I would not, for its tenderest glance,
Nor for thy sweetest smile of love,
Disturb that deep oblivious trance,
Nor lure thee from thy home above.
And do I therefore love thee less,
Than when the thought of losing thee,
In days of childish happiness,
Hath check'd me in my hour of glee?
I wept: for then my soul was strange
To hopes that bless my later years;
I thought not of a bright exchange
Of heaven for earth-of joy for tears.
But earth was not (I lived to see)
The paradise that childhood deems;
And all my fairy hopes for thee
I found at last unreal dreams.
I saw that dear beloved brow,
Beneath the weight of suffering press'd;
I saw thy fainting spirit bow,
And ask in vain for peace and rest.
'Till brighter hopes, that were not dreams,
Their light around thy spirit shed;
And heaven itself broke out in gleams
Of glory on thy dying bed.
There every word, and smile, and look,
Proclaim'd thy fleeting soul forgiven;
And well I knew, when it forsook
This vale of tears, 'twas safe in heaven.
The blood of Christ for thee hath done
Its everlasting work of love:
For thee thy dying Lord hath won
A crown of life, a throne above.
Then, fare thee well-we part, to meet
On yonder bright celestial shore,
Where union will indeed be sweet,
For we shall meet to part no more.
By living streams, in worlds above,
We'll bless the God who brought us there:
That glorious God whose name is Love,
Who gave thee to my fervent prayer.
'Till then, the thought that thou art blest,
Shall smooth and gladden all my way
To yonder world of bliss and rest,
Yon clime of everlasting day.
Hosanna on hosanna still,
To him we love, my heart shall raise:
'Twas his to pity, his to fill,
And he will teach me now to praise.