76
POEMS.
Thy pure spirit is wafted upward,—
Gone unto its God who gave;
Resting sweetly, we following onward
To our rest beyond the grave.
Gone unto its God who gave;
Resting sweetly, we following onward
To our rest beyond the grave.
Beautiful thought!—thy life is ended;
Never more tears can dim the eye.
Thy gentle soul is forever blended
With the angels above the sky.
Never more tears can dim the eye.
Thy gentle soul is forever blended
With the angels above the sky.
Although our hearts will mourn forever
For our mother called away,
We will cherish the fond hope ever
To meet again at the last day.
For our mother called away,
We will cherish the fond hope ever
To meet again at the last day.
SHE IS NOT DEAD.
She is not dead, but sleepeth,—
Gone to God who gave;
Flowers around her bloometh,
As they laid her in the grave.
Only passed, not gone forever,
Unto her heavenly home,
To meet her loving Saviour,
And left us on earth alone.
Unto her heavenly home,
To meet her loving Saviour,
And left us on earth alone.
