 | [Poems by Smith in] Lyric gems : a collection of original and select sacred poetry |  |
107
THE DEPARTED.
S. F. SMITH.
When spirits from their cumbering clay
Ascend to heaven's bright shore,
Our hoping hearts with triumph say—
“Not lost, but gone before.”
Ascend to heaven's bright shore,
Our hoping hearts with triumph say—
“Not lost, but gone before.”
The wheel lies broken at the fount,
The pitcher at the spring;
But upward doth the spirit mount,
And notes of glory sing.
The pitcher at the spring;
But upward doth the spirit mount,
And notes of glory sing.
Then calmly may our spirits bow
Beneath affliction's rod;
Who, who would murmur that his friend
Is safe in joy and God?
Beneath affliction's rod;
Who, who would murmur that his friend
Is safe in joy and God?
| [Poems by Smith in] Lyric gems : a collection of original and select sacred poetry | |