“In Memoriam.”
B. B. Y. Obt. Aug., 1852.
Oh! deep is our sorrow,
Anguish and woe,
No more to behold thee,
Loved one, below;
All the rich promise
Thy sweet childhood gave,
Blighted for ever.
Cut short by the grave!
Well may we weep for thee,
Child of our love,
Thy spirit all gentle
And meek as the dove;
Well may we mourn for thee,
Child of our hopes,—
Each fond expectation
A blighted flower droops!
The dear thoughts we cherished
Of future for thee,
Like unripe fruit perished
And fall’n from the tree.
At night and in day-dreams
We hear thy sweet voice,
But at the known music
We weep—not rejoice!
We yearn to behold thee,
We call as before;
The walls of the charnel
But echo “no more!”
No more shall we see thee—
No more on this earth—
E’en we who have loved thee
Each hour since thy birth.
Oh! whence can a balm for
Our deep wounds be given?
This world cannot yield such,
It must come from heaven!
Then let us look upward
In hope and in prayer,
That we may behold thee
In bright dwellings there.
How pure the last moments
Assigned thee below,
Whilst sweet thoughts within thee
Alone seemed to flow;
And love high and holy
Glowed warm in thy breast,
To prove thee preparing
For heaven’s calm rest.
God’s words of rich promise
Upheld thy young heart,
And made thee in peace and
In gladness depart;
And gives full assurance,
Thy last breath on earth,
Was but passing to heaven
And death was thy birth!
By faith we behold thee
An angel of light,
All radiant with glory,
In holiness bright,
Thy sweet young voice singing
With seraphs above,
Some anthem of gladness
Some pure song of love,
For ever rejoicing
In that high abode
In Him, Thy Creator,
Redeemer and God.
This thought will shine on us
With life-giving ray,
And be our rich solace
Through time’s dreary way.
Our keen sorrows softened,
Our anguish forgot,
In viewing the glory
And peace of thy lot;
And thy dear memory be
As a clear beacon given,
To win our hearts onward
To join thee in heaven.