HUSH ! tread softly-- a ransomed spirit
Is leaving its earthly clay ;
And the angels are joyously waiting in Heaven
For the loved one that's called away.
The dew-drops are standing upon the pale brow,
Death's presence is felt in the room ;
The eye-lids are drooping, the heart grows cold,
And we know that she's marked for the tomb.
We shall miss the kind word and encouraging glance ;
The house will look cheerless and sad ;
For a chair will be vacant, a voice be missing,
When the loved of our circle has fled.
But we know, though she's lost to us here on earth,
She will have a bright home above ;
And will join in the angels' holy songs
Of joy, and praise, and love.
