Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 34 1833.pdf/6

From the Exile's sorrow,
    From the Wanderer's dread
Of the night and morrow,
    Early, brightly fled;

Thou hast called him to a sweeter home

Than our lost one o'er the Ocean's foam.

Now let Thought behold him
    With his angel look,
Where those arms enfold him,
    Which benignly took

Israel's babes to their Good Shepherd's breast,

When his voice their tender meekness bless'd.

Turn thee, now, fond Mother!
    From thy dead, oh! turn!
Linger not, young Brother,
    Here to dream and mourn:

Only kneel once more around the sod,

Kneel, and bow submitted hearts to God!