Poems (Brown)/There is no Death
THERE IS NO DEATH.
There is no death! 'Tis but a peaceful sleep, Awaking in the presence of our God,Crossing fields of bright Elysian, By white-winged angels trod.
There is no death! It is but waking In the happy snow-white dress,Golden harps forever fingering, In the mansions of the blest.
Weeping friends below: are gathered Round the silent sleeping dead,Missing sadly happy voices, And the light and well-known tread.
Weeping, out of sore affliction, For a little form so dear,And the marble halls are vacant, Vacant is the little chair.
Costly toys around lie scattered; Simple dresses, small and white;But the little one that wore them Now hath vanished from their sight.
Soft the curtains cover over Downy pillows pure and fair,And upon the choicest tablet Lies a curl of golden hair.
Yet there is no death! It is but waking In the likeness of our God,While the body may be resting Silent 'neath the grass-green sod.
There is no death! It is but singing Angel praises sweet and clear,And on thrones of dazzling whiteness Sit and sing forever there.
There is no death! 'Tis but transition, Where angel praises, sweet and clear,Ring round thrones of dazzling brightness, From sweet lips of Seraph choir.