ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.
"He giveth his belovèd sleep,"
A calm, enduring, glorious rest,
From which they will not wake to weep,
But be forever blest.
For thee the victory is won,
Death's shadowy valley safely passed,
The golden gates been open thrown,
And thou art safe at last.
A calm, enduring, glorious rest,
From which they will not wake to weep,
But be forever blest.
For thee the victory is won,
Death's shadowy valley safely passed,
The golden gates been open thrown,
And thou art safe at last.
Safe, where no more earth's griefs and fears
Shall haunt the ocean of thy peace,
Where God himself shall dry thy tears,
And bid thy sorrows cease.
Through regions filled with snares and death—
Through wanderings dark, and sad, and lone—
To prove their love and try their faith,
He ofttimes leads his own.
Shall haunt the ocean of thy peace,
Where God himself shall dry thy tears,
And bid thy sorrows cease.
Through regions filled with snares and death—
Through wanderings dark, and sad, and lone—
To prove their love and try their faith,
He ofttimes leads his own.
And thou wast proved as few are proved,
And thou wast tried as few are tried;
Yet was thy true heart never moved,
But only purified.
And thou wast tried as few are tried;
Yet was thy true heart never moved,
But only purified.
