Poems (Hornblower)/Funeral Hymn
FUNERAL HYMN.
Pour your tears, pour your tearsO'er the loved of many years;Count his many virtues o'er,Pour your fond tears—fondly pour!
God hath sent them for relief.In your deep and sudden grief;And his angel hears on highEvery drop that dims your eye.
Your beloved hath his abodeOn the bosom of his God,And hath left ye yet below,Struggling on through toil and woe.
Bright forms flit amid the gloom,Guardians of that new-made tomb:Yet more dear to Him the sighBreathed from human sympathy.
As thy grief bursts forth to God,As thy fond lips press the sod,Turn thy weeping eyes above,To his own heaven of peace and love.
Beyond those radiant spheres he stands,Amidst the bright immortal bands;Th' unfading crown awaits his brow,Yet even in bliss he looks below.
What seeks his gaze—he sees thee weep,In anguish o'er his seeming sleep,And fain,fain would give thee signOf joys eternal and divine.
It may not be—yet blissful trustShall raise thy drooping thoughts from dust,And holiest aspirations beThy pledge of immortality.
Go read it in those shining skies,In thine own heart's deep sympathies;In the outpourings of that love,Which death itself may not remove.
Go seek it in the hallowed book.On its calm heavenly pages look;And soothed, and comforted, and blest,There shall thy wearied heart find rest.