"God only smites, that through the wounds of woe
The healing balm He gives may inlier flow."—J. S.
Beneath the ever-peaceful grave
Thy body findeth rest;
Thy life is from all sickness free,
Thy soul with angels blest.
Where the silver stars are shining,
Before the Father's throne,
And where no grief or pain can come,
There, brother, thou art gone.
Jesus, Saviour, when o'erwhelming,
Death with terrors seem'd to be,
Still we hop'd, for Thou hadst taught us
Not to fear, but cling to Thee.
Thus in Death a friend we found,
For peace and love were seen beyond.—A.
"Time, which had silver'd o'er my aged head,
At length has rang'd me with the peaceful dead:
One hint, gay youth, from dust and ashes borrow,—
My days were many,—thine may end to-morrow."
"When the shore is won at last,
Who will count the billows past?"
