 | Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell |  |
111
THE SLEEP.
She is not dead. She only lies a-sleeping,
Her dear head pillowed on her Saviour's breast;
Then why this wringing of the hands and weeping?
There is no cause for tears; she is at rest.
Her dear head pillowed on her Saviour's breast;
Then why this wringing of the hands and weeping?
There is no cause for tears; she is at rest.
She is at rest from all the pain and sorrow,
The cares and roughness of the toilsome way,
The doubts, the anxious fears about the morrow,
The burning heat and burden of the day.
The cares and roughness of the toilsome way,
The doubts, the anxious fears about the morrow,
The burning heat and burden of the day.
Our God has called her to Himself in heaven,
And set her full within that perfect light,
Where morning never darkens into even,
Where noon ne'er waning fades into a night.
And set her full within that perfect light,
Where morning never darkens into even,
Where noon ne'er waning fades into a night.
Her voice is no more tuned to notes of sadness,
But lifts itself in sweet and holy psalm;
Her face is all alight with wondering gladness,
Her hand is waving the victorious palm.
But lifts itself in sweet and holy psalm;
Her face is all alight with wondering gladness,
Her hand is waving the victorious palm.
112
O happy spirit, happy now for ever!
More bless'd than thought conceives, or tongue can tell,
The chilling winds of grief shall reach thee never,
Round thee no tempests rage, nor billows swell.
More bless'd than thought conceives, or tongue can tell,
The chilling winds of grief shall reach thee never,
Round thee no tempests rage, nor billows swell.
Nor art thou lost; for when our Christ shall gather
His ransomed round Him on the sapphire floor,
When He presents them all unto the Father,
Thou shalt be ours again for evermore.
His ransomed round Him on the sapphire floor,
When He presents them all unto the Father,
Thou shalt be ours again for evermore.
Sweet sleep of death! and oh, the sweet awaking
Within the arms of everlasting love!
Oh, smile of God upon Thy children breaking,
To bid them welcome to the home above!
Within the arms of everlasting love!
Oh, smile of God upon Thy children breaking,
To bid them welcome to the home above!
She is not dead; she only lies a sleeping,
With eyelids closed, hands folded on her breast;
Hush thy sad cries, restrain thy bitter weeping,
Life's toil is over, and she—she is at rest.
With eyelids closed, hands folded on her breast;
Hush thy sad cries, restrain thy bitter weeping,
Life's toil is over, and she—she is at rest.
| Diana's Looking Glass and Other Poems by Charles D. Bell | |