Chapter 94
4 And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again.
5 For G.o.d hath marked each anguished day, And numbered every secret tear; And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay For all his children suffer here.
567. 12s. & 11s. M. Heber.
Farewell to a Friend Departed.
1 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee; Though sorrows and darkness encompa.s.s the tomb; The Saviour has pa.s.sed through its portals before thee; And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.
2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side: But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath died.
3 Thou art gone to the grave; and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long; But the suns.h.i.+ne of heaven beamed bright on thy waking, And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's song.
4 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee; Since G.o.d was thy Refuge, thy Guardian, thy Guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee; And death has no sting, since the Saviour hath died.
568. C. M. Barbauld.
The Mourner's Thoughts of Heaven.
1 Not for the pious dead we weep; Their sorrows now are o'er; The sea is calm, the tempest past, On that eternal sh.o.r.e.
2 O, might some dream of visioned bliss, Some trance of rapture, show Where, on the bosom of their G.o.d, They rest from human woe!
3 Thence may their pure devotion's flame On us, on us descend; To us their strong aspiring hopes, Their faith, their fervors lend.
4 Let these our
569. L. M. Norton.
Blessedness of the Pious Dead.
1 O, stay thy tears; for they are blest, Whose days are past, whose toil is done: Here midnight care disturbs our rest; Here sorrow dims the noonday sun.
2 How blest are they whose transient years Pa.s.s like an evening meteor's flight!
Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears; Whose course is short, unclouded, bright.
3 O, cheerless were our lengthened way; But Heaven's own light dispels the gloom, Streams downward from eternal day, And casts a glory round the tomb.
4 O, stay thy tears: the blest above Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth, And sung a song of joy and love; Then why should anguish reign on earth?
570. S. M. Mrs. Sigourney.
"Weep for yourselves, and for your children."
1 We mourn for those who toil, The slave who ploughs the main, Or him who hopeless tills the soil Beneath the stripe and chain: For those who, in the race, O'erwearied and unblest, A host of restless phantoms chase;-- Why mourn for those who rest?
2 We mourn for those who sin?
Bound in the tempter's snare, Whom syren pleasure beckons in To prisons of despair; Whose hearts, by pa.s.sions torn, Are wrecked on folly's sh.o.r.e;-- But why in sorrow should we mourn For those who sin no more?
3 We mourn for those who weep; Whom stern afflictions bend With anguish o'er the lowly sleep Of lover or of friend: But they to whom the sway Of pain and grief is o'er, Whose tears our G.o.d hath wiped away, O mourn for them no more!
571. L. M. W. J. Loring.
"Weep not for me!"
1 Why weep for those, frail child of woe, Who've fled and left thee mourning here?
Triumphant o'er their latest foe, They glory in a brighter sphere.
2 Weep not for them;--beside thee now Perhaps they watch with guardian care, And witness tears that idly flow O'er those who bliss of angels share.
3 Or round their Father's throne, above, With raptured voice his praise they sing; Or on his messages of love, They journey with unwearied wing.
4 Weep, weep no more; their voices raise The song of triumph high to G.o.d; And wouldst thou join their song of praise, Walk humbly in the path they trod.
572. S. H. M. Montgomery.
Friends die, but to live again.
1 Friend after friend departs; Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end.
Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
2 There is a world above, Where parting is unknown,-- A whole eternity of love And blessedness alone; And faith beholds the dying here, Translated to that happier sphere.
3 Thus, star by star declines Till all are pa.s.sed away, As morning high and higher s.h.i.+nes To pure and perfect day.