Poems (Hoffman)/Death
For works with similar titles, see Death.
DEATH
Dark were the world if o'er its gloomThe gospel light had never dawned,Hopeless our fate if through the tombWe saw no better world beyond.
The smile of earthly gladness fadesDestined to swift and sure decay,Disease this mortal frame invadesAnd leaves but cold and lifeless clay.
So brief is life—a few short yearsMeasure this fleeting transient breath,Sorrow and gladness, smiles and tearsSurrender to the angel,—Death.
"Come unto me," the Saviour said;No more a weary pilgrim roam;Swift through the night the chariot spedThat bore the deathless spirit home.
Veiled are the joyous, sparkling eyes,No more on earth to smile or weep,No more to ope in glad surpriseWhen earthly music breaks their sleep.
Peaceful is now the weary brainIts tumult stilled, its tempest O'er,Its once bright prospects slowly waneAs lights upon a distant shore.
But oh, true heart, art thou asleep?Thou who wert faithful to the lastStruggling the flickering flame to keepWhen all else sank before the blast?
Yes, thou art still. No earthly voiceCan rouse thee from thy pulseless calm,The heart once weighed with many a crossHas changed its sorrows for a psalm.
They are not here, the soul has leftBut the frail house of its abode,The fires are quenched the hearth bereftThat once with warmth and beauty glowed.
Through the dim windows, curtained now,Once an ethereal spirit shone;On the pale rigid cheek and browThe blushing rose of health has blown.
The mind dwells not within its wallsNor knows its desolate decayBut far beyond death's lonely hallsIt revels in eternal day.
The heart that oft unsatisfiedThrobbed with a longing unexpressed,Freed when the quaking mortal died,Has found the Christian's peaceful rest.
When on a lonely coffin lidYou hear the heavy clods descend,And "dust to dust" is sadly saidAbove the ashes of a friend;
Oh, do not mourn in mute despair!Death cannot break love's silent power;The hidden bud we nourish hereIn Heaven has bloomed a perfect flower.
Love cannot die. A lengthened chainBinds heart and soul, and mind and willTo those we hope to meet again,The same dear friends who love us still.
The Christian knows no darkened grave,Before earth's bells their dirge could tollAngelic palms began to waveTo welcome home a weary soul.
Gather sweet flowers of hope and loveAnd bring them with a noiseless tread,Symbols of joys that bloom above,To strew around your sacred dead.
And as their sweet perfumes ariseLinked with the spirit's voiceless prayerLook up to yonder paradiseAnd count your loss a triumph there.
For Hope's triumphant bow has spannedThe cloud that hovers o'er the tomb,And Faith beholds the better landWhere fairer flowers than Eden's bloom.