How sweetly lingers
Around their memory soft and gentle light,
A track into the heavens serenely bright ;
TVith rosy fingers,
The summer twilight thus around us weaves
A glory tinting deep the forest leaves.
Peacefully sleeping,
With Jesus hidden are the pious dead,
For them no agonizing tears be shed ;
Angels are keeping,
In fond remembrance of their faith and trust,
A silent watch where lies their mortal dust.
"We hail the departed, .
The dwellers on yon pure and peaceful shore,
Whose faces we behold on earth no more ;
When we are faint-hearted,
And dim within us burns the sacred light,
The thought of them shall make our pathway bright.
No fierce blast hovers
O'er all that bright and blessed spirit-realm,
No wintry clouds, surcharged with storms o'erwhelm,
God's presence covers,
With a mysterious radiance vale and hill,
Where the departed ones are living still.
There is no dying
For them who as the angels are become,
Within the brightness of that heavenly home ;
No grief or crying,
For all the former things have passed away,
In the soft air of an eternal day.
