Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature By Charles Mackay |
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DYING.
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 | Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature |  |
243
DYING.
A CHORUS OF ANGELS.
Come away! come away! Life is too sad for thee;
Chill are its winds on thy delicate breast!
Earth is too rude for thee—Heaven shall be glad for thee—
Come away, lovely one: come to thy rest!
Low in thy narrow bed,
Lay down thy gentle head;
Give back to mother Earth all she can crave:
All thy mortality,
Doomed to finality,
Leave it behind in the dust of the grave.
Chill are its winds on thy delicate breast!
Earth is too rude for thee—Heaven shall be glad for thee—
Come away, lovely one: come to thy rest!
Low in thy narrow bed,
Lay down thy gentle head;
Give back to mother Earth all she can crave:
All thy mortality,
Doomed to finality,
Leave it behind in the dust of the grave.
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Come away! come away! Earth is not meant for thee:
Beautiful spirit, mount up to the sky!
Men who have lost thee shall mourn and lament for thee,
Thou shalt rejoice in thy glory on high.
Spread thy bright wings, and soar
Spotless for evermore;
Sin-stained no longer, but white and forgiven:
Heir of infinity,
Robed in divinity,
Come away, happy one—come up to Heaven!
Beautiful spirit, mount up to the sky!
Men who have lost thee shall mourn and lament for thee,
Thou shalt rejoice in thy glory on high.
Spread thy bright wings, and soar
Spotless for evermore;
Sin-stained no longer, but white and forgiven:
Heir of infinity,
Robed in divinity,
Come away, happy one—come up to Heaven!
| Studies from the Antique and Sketches from Nature | |