ADIEU, sweet little one, adieu,
Thy sufferings now are o’er,
The burning glow of feverish heat
Shall flush thy cheek no more.
No longer shall thy aching head
Be racked with wearying pain,
Nor shall a teardrop ever dim
Those little eyes again.
For thou hast reached that far off land,
Where sickness is unknown,
Where parting sounds are heard no more,
Whore death can never come.
Thou wert indeed a tender plant,
Too fair for earthly bowers,
More fit to dwell in Paradise,
With everlasting flowers.
Thy parents loved their little one,
They watched thee day by day,
And wept to see thy wasted frame
Fast sinking to decay.
But Jesus looked with pitying eye
Till thy last sigh was given,
Then gently took thee in His arms,
And bore thee safe to heaven.
Thrice happy child; thy silvery voice
Forever hushed on earth,
Shall sing throughout eternity
His praise who gave thee birth.
A gentle loving Saviour’s breast
Henceforth thy home shall be,
Adieu, sweet child, it is enough,
All, all is well with thee.
Rejoice, ye mourning ones, rejoice,
And check the starting tear,
Look not within that narrow grave,
And think your child is there.
But raise your thoughts above the skies,
And oh, what joy it gives,
To know that, while her body dies,
Your little Adah lives.