4 And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again.

5 For G.o.d hath marked each anguished day, And numbered every secret tear; And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay For all his children suffer here.

567. 12s. & 11s. M. Heber.

Farewell to a Friend Departed.

1 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee; Though sorrows and darkness encompa.s.s the tomb; The Saviour has pa.s.sed through its portals before thee; And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.

2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side: But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath died.

3 Thou art gone to the grave; and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking, And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's song.

4 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee; Since G.o.d was thy Refuge, thy Guardian, thy Guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee; And death has no sting, since the Saviour hath died.

568. C. M. Barbauld.

The Mourner's Thoughts of Heaven.

1 Not for the pious dead we weep; Their sorrows now are o'er; The sea is calm, the tempest past, On that eternal sh.o.r.e.

2 O, might some dream of visioned bliss, Some trance of rapture, show Where, on the bosom of their G.o.d, They rest from human woe!

3 Thence may their pure devotion's flame On us, on us descend; To us their strong aspiring hopes, Their faith, their fervors lend.

4 Let these our shadowy path illume, And teach the chastened mind To welcome all that's left of good, To all that's lost resigned.

569. L. M. Norton.

Blessedness of the Pious Dead.

1 O, stay thy tears; for they are blest, Whose days are past, whose toil is done: Here midnight care disturbs our rest; Here sorrow dims the noonday sun.

2 How blest are they whose transient years Pa.s.s like an evening meteor's flight!

Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears; Whose course is short, unclouded, bright.

3 O, cheerless were our lengthened way; But Heaven's own light dispels the gloom, Streams downward from eternal day, And casts a glory round the tomb.

4 O, stay thy tears: the blest above Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth, And sung a song of joy and love; Then why should anguish reign on earth?

570. S. M. Mrs. Sigourney.

"Weep for yourselves, and for your children."

1 We mourn for those who toil, The slave who ploughs the main, Or him who hopeless tills the soil Beneath the stripe and chain: For those who, in the race, O'erwearied and unblest, A host of restless phantoms chase;-- Why mourn for those who rest?

2 We mourn for those who sin?

Bound in the tempter's snare, Whom syren pleasure beckons in To prisons of despair; Whose hearts, by pa.s.sions torn, Are wrecked on folly's sh.o.r.e;-- But why in sorrow should we mourn For those who sin no more?

3 We mourn for those who weep; Whom stern afflictions bend With anguish o'er the lowly sleep Of lover or of friend: But they to whom the sway Of pain and grief is o'er, Whose tears our G.o.d hath wiped away, O mourn for them no more!

571. L. M. W. J. Loring.

"Weep not for me!"

1 Why weep for those, frail child of woe, Who've fled and left thee mourning here?

Triumphant o'er their latest foe, They glory in a brighter sphere.

2 Weep not for them;--beside thee now Perhaps they watch with guardian care, And witness tears that idly flow O'er those who bliss of angels share.

3 Or round their Father's throne, above, With raptured voice his praise they sing; Or on his messages of love, They journey with unwearied wing.

4 Weep, weep no more; their voices raise The song of triumph high to G.o.d; And wouldst thou join their song of praise, Walk humbly in the path they trod.

572. S. H. M. Montgomery.

Friends die, but to live again.

1 Friend after friend departs; Who hath not lost a friend?

There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end.

Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.

2 There is a world above, Where parting is unknown,-- A whole eternity of love And blessedness alone; And faith beholds the dying here, Translated to that happier sphere.

3 Thus, star by star declines Till all are pa.s.sed away, As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day.