Poems (Hale)/The Death of a near Relative
ON THE DEATH OF A NEAR RELATIVE.
"Let not your heart be troubled . . . . Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Holy Writ.
Blissful and glorious meed!
What to the sorrowing spirit could be given,
Breathing so much of hope, of joy, of heaven?
Blessed are they, indeed,
Who, from the shrouding veil of earth set free,
Can face to face their Heavenly Father see.
What to the sorrowing spirit could be given,
Breathing so much of hope, of joy, of heaven?
Blessed are they, indeed,
Who, from the shrouding veil of earth set free,
Can face to face their Heavenly Father see.
Being of perfect love!
Who, though Thy hand grief's deepest fount may stir,
Dost in Thy darkest counsels never err,
Up to Thy throne above,
Our stricken souls their weight of anguish send,
Our Rock of strength, our never-failing Friend!
Who, though Thy hand grief's deepest fount may stir,
Dost in Thy darkest counsels never err,
Up to Thy throne above,
Our stricken souls their weight of anguish send,
Our Rock of strength, our never-failing Friend!
Yet with a quenchless trust,
That once again love's fount shall be unsealed,
To Thee this treasure of our hearts we yield.
Most merciful and just!
Let not our confidence of hope be vain,—
Shall we not meet where peace and rapture reign?
That once again love's fount shall be unsealed,
To Thee this treasure of our hearts we yield.
Most merciful and just!
Let not our confidence of hope be vain,—
Shall we not meet where peace and rapture reign?
Never again below,
Where once in love our hearts were wont to meet,
Shall that closed eye our gazing vision greet.
Yet where, all ceaseless, flow
The waters of love's own immortal stream,
Full on our souls, once more, its light shall beam.
Where once in love our hearts were wont to meet,
Shall that closed eye our gazing vision greet.
Yet where, all ceaseless, flow
The waters of love's own immortal stream,
Full on our souls, once more, its light shall beam.
Brother and friend! farewell!
Not for thy rapture shed we grief's sad tear.
No, we would keep thine image still so dear,
As a sweet hallowed spell,—
An added link to that bright chain of love,
Which binds us to our better home above.
Not for thy rapture shed we grief's sad tear.
No, we would keep thine image still so dear,
As a sweet hallowed spell,—
An added link to that bright chain of love,
Which binds us to our better home above.
Meet was it that the hues
Of summer's lingering flowers should light thy way,
To those blest bowers whose hues know no decay.
Watered by heaven's own dews,
Thy Father's smile lights up the radiant bloom,
Which sheds o'er those bright realms its rich perfume.
Of summer's lingering flowers should light thy way,
To those blest bowers whose hues know no decay.
Watered by heaven's own dews,
Thy Father's smile lights up the radiant bloom,
Which sheds o'er those bright realms its rich perfume.
Rest in thy purity!
As the lost fragrance of the summer flower
Shall steal across our souls, at twilight's hour,
Thy cherished memory.
We will not grieve that thou hast earliest trod
The path which leads thee to thy Father, God.
As the lost fragrance of the summer flower
Shall steal across our souls, at twilight's hour,
Thy cherished memory.
We will not grieve that thou hast earliest trod
The path which leads thee to thy Father, God.
No! rather let the love
That once shed sunlight o'er our earthly way
Point us to thy bright rest, heaven's "perfect day."
In that sweet home above,
The only heritage which cannot fail,
Let us but meet,—beyond death's silent vale.
That once shed sunlight o'er our earthly way
Point us to thy bright rest, heaven's "perfect day."
In that sweet home above,
The only heritage which cannot fail,
Let us but meet,—beyond death's silent vale.