 | Idle Moments : |  |
55
In Memoriam.
Sleep on, brave soul! thy warfare o'er,
Thy rest comes sure and soon,
Thy sun, which rose at early morn,
Has passed away at noon;
As drops the flower when chilling frost,
But touch its tender leaves,
Thy brilliant life has passed away,
And left our hearts to grieve.
Thy rest comes sure and soon,
Thy sun, which rose at early morn,
Has passed away at noon;
As drops the flower when chilling frost,
But touch its tender leaves,
Thy brilliant life has passed away,
And left our hearts to grieve.
In many a home, when sorrow came,
And none but God could know,
Thy kindly touch applied the balm,
And soothed a brother's woe;
And “As ye did it unto these”—
How sweet these words must be
That softly fell from lips divine,
“Ye did it unto me.”
And none but God could know,
Thy kindly touch applied the balm,
And soothed a brother's woe;
And “As ye did it unto these”—
How sweet these words must be
That softly fell from lips divine,
“Ye did it unto me.”
And while our tears in sorrow fall,
Such grief no tongue can tell,
We stand resigned to his blest will,
Who doeth all things well;
And in the years, swift rolling by,
Thou wilt not be forgot,
For in our hearts for thee must bloom,
The sweet forget-me-not.
Such grief no tongue can tell,
We stand resigned to his blest will,
Who doeth all things well;
And in the years, swift rolling by,
Thou wilt not be forgot,
For in our hearts for thee must bloom,
The sweet forget-me-not.
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