Poems (Hale)/In Heaven "the weary are at rest"

by Mary Whitwell Hale

IN HEAVEN THE "WEARY ARE AT REST."

 Rest thee! thou blessed one!
Thy day of trial and of grief is o'er,
Thy spirit now is chained to earth no more,
 Thy journey here is done;
And the blest meed to purity is given,—
A full, a perfect, glorious rest in heaven.

 Short was thy sojourn here;
Yet gentle hands beguiled it of its gloom,
And strewed with flowers thy pathway to the tomb.
 There was the smile to cheer;
The eye to beam with fond affection's ray;
The aching heart to bid thee longer stay.

 And He, thy God, was there;
His glorious presence filled thy trusting heart,
His gracious smile and favor to impart.
 Thou hadst no gloomy care
When He, thy Father and thy Friend, was nigh,
To cheer thy heart and still each anxious sigh.

 Mourn we thy spirit's flight
To realms of pure, undying bliss above,
Where thou may'st share thy Father's perfect love,
 The fount of life and light?
Never shall sorrow in those realms intrude,
To interrupt thy soul's deep gratitude.

 Earth had no home for thee
Thy spirit was too pure to linger here,—
It sought its rest within a nobler sphere:—
 O glorious destiny!
Thy feet have trodden an immortal shore,
And earth to thy freed soul is now no more.

 But we must longer stay;
Yet oft the eye thy early doom shall weep,
Oft shall we wander where thy ashes sleep,
 Till at the final day
Our spirits at the throne of God shall meet,
And cast their sorrows at his mercy's seat.