Poems (Smith)/Here and Hereafter

by Martha A. Smith

HERE AND HEREAFTER.

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When every hope on earth has perish'd,
 And every joy in life has fled,
We rest our hope on God our Saviour,
 Till sweetly sleeping with the dead.

With cold hands folded o'er the bosom,
 The silent voice no more to speak,
The soul ha.s passed unto its Maker,
 Its record there alone to seek.