Littell's Living Age/Volume 155/Issue 2007/Hidden, not Lost

by Mary Harrison

As in his sleep a baby lies
Buried, till waking bids him rise;
As in the acorn trees are hid,
To show themselves when summers bid;
As in the mind dear faces lurk
Unseen till memory's wand shall work:
     So sleeps my love within her grave —
          Not 'neath that sod,
          But there with God!
                    Alone,
Till, dying, I shall death obey,
And follow her the selfsame way
                    She went;
Then shall I see her face to face —
The old delight with double grace —
And each to each shall wake from sleep,
Love’s endless fellowship to keep —
                    Not there,
     Beneath that rounded sod,
                    But there,
     In heaven, in life with God!