poems.
49
And we gave him up with bitter pangs,
To the fell destroyer Death,
At whose decree e'en Nature shrinks,
And withers at his chilling breath.
To the fell destroyer Death,
At whose decree e'en Nature shrinks,
And withers at his chilling breath.
With bitter hearts we robed his bed,
And laid him down to rest,
With bright flowers strew'd about him,
For God said, "It is best."
And laid him down to rest,
With bright flowers strew'd about him,
For God said, "It is best."
We bore him to the "village-yard,"
With slow and measured tread;
Then turned away with tearful eyes,
And left him with the dead.
With slow and measured tread;
Then turned away with tearful eyes,
And left him with the dead.
We entered our silent chamber,
We gazed on the empty chair;
We looked in the little cradle,—
But our "Freddie" was not there:
We gazed on the empty chair;
We looked in the little cradle,—
But our "Freddie" was not there:
For far beyond all earth's alarms,-
Where flowers eternal bloom,
The eye of faith beholds him now
Arisen from the tomb.
Where flowers eternal bloom,
The eye of faith beholds him now
Arisen from the tomb.
