“Gone to God”

Finished now the weary throbbing, Of a bosom calmed to rest; Laid aside the heavy sorrows, That for years upon it prest.

All the thirst for pure affection, All the hunger of the heart; All the vain and tearful cryings, All forever now depart.

Clasp the pale and faded fingers, O’er the cold and lifeless form; They shall never abrink and shiver, Homeless in the dark and storm.

Press the death-weights calmly, gently, O’er the eyelids in their sleep; Tears shall never tremble from them, They shall never wake to weep.

Close the silent lips together, Lips once parted with a sigh; Through their sealed, moveless portals, Ne’er shall float a bitter cry.

Bring no bright and blooming flowers, Let no mournful tears be shed, Funeral flowers, tears of sorrow, They are for the cherished dead.

She has been a lonely wanderer, Drifting on the world’s highway; Grasping with her woman’s nature, Feeble reeds to be her stay.

God is witness to the anguish, Of a heart that’s all alone; Floating blindly on life’s current, Only bound unto His throne.

But o’er such, Death’s solemn angel, Broodeth with a sheltering wing; Till the hopeless hand ’s grown weary, Cease around earth’s toys to cling.

Then kind hands will clasp them gently, On the still, unaching breast; Softly treading by, they’ll whisper, Of the lone one gone to rest.