MY brother dear, ah ! can it be
Thou art no more distressed ?
That Death hath kindly set thee free,
And thou art now at rest !
E'en so my fancy painteth thee,
With Him who reigns above,
Join'd with a goodly company,
Whose conduct flows from love !
While here, thy God enabled thee
To feel thy sins forgiven ;
And tearfully we raise our thanks
That thou art blest in Heaven.
No more thy voice salutes the ear
In tones of family love :
No more thy songs on earth we hear,
Although thou sing'st above.
The viol and the flute lie still,
As though thy hands were dead ;
Or as if none had power or will
To use them in thy stead.
Perhaps if God will thee allow
To leave the throne above,
Thou'ltf be our guardian angel now,
Borne on the wings of love.
