Chapter 96
1 As, bowed by sudden storms, the rose Sinks on the garden's breast, Down to the grave our brother goes, In silence there to rest.
2 No more with us his tuneful voice The hymn of praise shall swell; No more his cheerful heart rejoice When peals the Sabbath bell.
3 Yet, if, in yonder cloudless sphere Amid a sinless throng, He utters in his Saviour's ear The everlasting song,--
4 No more we'll mourn the absent friend, But lift our earnest prayer, And daily every effort bend To rise and join him there.
580. C. M. Houghton.
The Re-union of Friends after Death.
1 Blest be the hour when friends shall meet, Shall meet to part no more, And with celestial welcome greet, On an immortal sh.o.r.e.
2 Sweet hope, deep cherished, not in vain, Now art thou richly crowned!
All that was dead revives again; All that was lost is found!
3 The parent eyes his long-lost child; Brothers on brothers gaze: The tear of resignation mild Is changed to joy and praise.
4 And while remembrance, lingering still, Draws joy from sorrowing hours; New prospects rise, new pleasures fill The soul's capacious powers.
5 Their Father fans their generous flame, And looks complacent down; The smile that owns their filial claim Is their immortal crown.
581. L. M. Anonymous.
"Not lost, but gone before."
1 Say, why should friends.h.i.+p grieve for those Who safe arrive on Canaan's sh.o.r.e?
Released from all their
2 How many painful days on earth Their fainting spirits numbered o'er!
Now they enjoy a heavenly birth; They are not lost--but gone before.
3 Dear is the spot where Christians sleep, And sweet the strain which angels pour; O why should we in anguish weep?
They are not lost--but gone before.
582. L. M. Epis. Coll.
Death of an Infant.
1 As the sweet flower that scents the morn, But withers in the rising day, Thus lovely was this infant's dawn, Thus swiftly fled its life away.
2 It died ere its expanding soul Had ever burnt with wrong desires, Had ever spurned at Heaven's control, Or ever quenched its sacred fires.
3 Yet the sad hour that took the boy Perhaps has spared a heavier doom,-- s.n.a.t.c.hed him from scenes of guilty joy, Or from the pangs of ills to come.
4 He died to sin; he died to care; But for a moment felt the rod; Then, rising on the viewless air, Spread his light wings, and soared to G.o.d.
583. L. M. Steele.
The Same.
1 So fades the lovely, blooming flower, Frail, smiling solace of an hour; So soon our transient comforts fly, And pleasure only blooms to die.
2 Is there no kind, no healing art, To soothe the anguish of the heart?
Spirit of grace, be ever nigh: Thy comforts are not made to die.
3 Let gentle patience smile on pain, Till dying hope revives again; Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye, And faith points upward to the sky.
584. C. M. Steele.
Death of a Child.
1 Life is a span,--a fleeting hour: How soon the vapor flies!
Man is a tender, transient flower, That e'en in blooming dies.
2 The once-loved form, now cold and dead, Each mournful thought employs; And nature weeps, her comforts fled, And withered all her joys.
3 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time, When what we now deplore Shall rise in full, immortal prime, And bloom to fade no more.
4 Cease, then, fond nature, cease thy tears; Thy Saviour dwells on high; There everlasting spring appears; There joy shall never die.
585. 7s. & 6s. M. Anonymous.
Children in Heaven.