Elegy

The bright sun shines upon the grave And fresh trees wave above, Where late in death’s cold bonds was laid The form of her we love.

There morn and eve the dew will rest, The wild flowers sweetly spring, And birds in nature’s soothing notes Her requiem softly sing.

A rural quiet reigns around, The air seems holy breath,— A calm asylum to repose The worn out frame in death!

And thine was worn—for sorrow came, And grief, and pain, and care; Such fearful ill, such suff’ring keen, As few are called to bear.

The promise saith those are beloved Who own the chastening rod; Such is our hope, and trust, and faith, And now thou art with GOD.

“The LORD my Shepherd,” peaceful words Thy dying lips disclose; The LORD THY Shepherd is the joy Thy risen spirit knows.

How oft our hopes will follow thee To brighter realms above, And feel our spirits linked to thine In ties of sacred love.

Our thoughts of thee, as time rolls on, Will grow more pure and bright, And view thy well known earthly form Arrayed in angel light.

May each in sorrow left behind From sin and evil flee, And through Redemptive love attain That radiant world with thee.

Then shall we all again unite To part in grief no more, But mingle with serene delight, On that eternal shore.