A memorial volume of sacred poetry by the late Sir John Bowring. To which is prefixed, a memoir of the author, by Lady Bowring |
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Loss of Friends.
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 | A memorial volume of sacred poetry |  |
Loss of Friends.
In grief's deep solitude, we turn
To Thee our God! and thence prefer
The prayers of those who, doomed to mourn,
Seek comfort from the Comforter.
To Thee our God! and thence prefer
The prayers of those who, doomed to mourn,
Seek comfort from the Comforter.
Teach us to feel that all is right,
Since all is guided from above;
A father's hand could never smite
But with a father's gentle love.
Since all is guided from above;
A father's hand could never smite
But with a father's gentle love.
When friends depart—and hopeless woe
The soul of sorrow seems to burst;
Father! to Thee, to Thee they go,
To Thee, from whom they came at first.
The soul of sorrow seems to burst;
Father! to Thee, to Thee they go,
To Thee, from whom they came at first.
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And if on earth their lives were peace,
Though earth's abode so darksome be;
How infinite their blessedness,
Wafted to heav'n, to joy, to Thee!
Though earth's abode so darksome be;
How infinite their blessedness,
Wafted to heav'n, to joy, to Thee!
| A memorial volume of sacred poetry | |