 | Forest buds, from the woods of Maine |  |
147
OF ONE BELOVED.
The one whom we have loved has passed along
The valley of the shadow; even now
Faith hears the echo of her angel-song,
And sees the crown of light upon her brow.
The valley of the shadow; even now
Faith hears the echo of her angel-song,
And sees the crown of light upon her brow.
Why call the valley dark?—No shadowing
Of grief or gloom on her fair brow has place,—
Death's gentle angel with his snowy wing
Has swept all pain and sorrow from her face.
Of grief or gloom on her fair brow has place,—
Death's gentle angel with his snowy wing
Has swept all pain and sorrow from her face.
Why call the valley dark? it is that we
Look on it through a veil of grief the while?
It was not dark to her,—it could not be
When lighted by Our Father's loving smile.
Look on it through a veil of grief the while?
It was not dark to her,—it could not be
When lighted by Our Father's loving smile.
Not dark to her; while those she held most dear,
Wept hopelessly, with tearful eyes cast down,
Her lifted eyes, with faith undimmed and clear,
Beheld afar the triumph and the crown!
Wept hopelessly, with tearful eyes cast down,
Her lifted eyes, with faith undimmed and clear,
Beheld afar the triumph and the crown!
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Their eyes are tearful—hers have ceased to weep:—
Their hearts are aching;—hers will ache no more;
For she hath crossed death's ocean, chill and deep,
And found a welcome on the other shore.
Their hearts are aching;—hers will ache no more;
For she hath crossed death's ocean, chill and deep,
And found a welcome on the other shore.
As star-beams faint in morning light away,
So softly have life's weary wings been furled,
And as I gaze, the pale lips seem to say,
Though motionless—“At peace with all the world!
So softly have life's weary wings been furled,
And as I gaze, the pale lips seem to say,
Though motionless—“At peace with all the world!
I know that when around the lighted hearth
Ye gather, as the evening hours come on,
Like a soft cloud between your hearts and mirth
Will come the memory of the absent one.
Ye gather, as the evening hours come on,
Like a soft cloud between your hearts and mirth
Will come the memory of the absent one.
I know that ye will watch “the vacant chair,”
And gazing dimly through your gathering tears
Will think of her who from her station there,
Looked love upon you, for so many years.
And gazing dimly through your gathering tears
Will think of her who from her station there,
Looked love upon you, for so many years.
But by the faith which is a joy to me,
Cheering me on my way of grief and ill,
I know the one ye mourn so bitterly
Though all unseen, will be among you still.
Cheering me on my way of grief and ill,
I know the one ye mourn so bitterly
Though all unseen, will be among you still.
Unseen—yet will she comfort you, and bless,—
Her gentle spirit, to its mission true,
Will love and cheer and guide you none the less
Because her form is hidden from your view.
Her gentle spirit, to its mission true,
Will love and cheer and guide you none the less
Because her form is hidden from your view.
149
Let this sweet solace with your grieving blend,
And give your aching bosoms hope and peace;—
Though you have lost your dearest earthly friend,
Lo, ye have gained an angel in her place!
And give your aching bosoms hope and peace;—
Though you have lost your dearest earthly friend,
Lo, ye have gained an angel in her place!
| Forest buds, from the woods of Maine | |