Poems (Proctor)/When I am Dead
WHEN I AM DEAD.
When I am dead, O let it be,Dear Lord! for blessed rest in Thee!Then, though my ear had never knownThe rapture of a loving tone,Nor tender kisses prest my browWhen heart to heart gave holiest vow,Nor fame's bewildering music stoleLike a sweet fever through my soul,—I shall lie down as kings do lie,In royal state and majesty;Nor cedar need, nor purple fold,Nor sculptured stone, nor fretted gold,But find my silent chamber thereThan fairest couch of earth more fair,For Thou, the King of kings, wilt spreadThe pillow for my weary head.
And whether, where I rest alone,Come foes to scorn or friends to moan,I shall not heed them,—hid in joy,Nor friend can give nor foe alloy;But peaceful sleep, as children slumberWhose mother's thoughts the minutes number,For Thou, the Lord, with love divineWilt watch beside that grave of mine.