farewell to my home.
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The waters of love's own immortal stream,
Full on our souls, once more, its light shall beam.
Full on our souls, once more, its light shall beam.
Brother and friend! farewell!
Not for thy rapture shed we grief's sad tear.
No, we would keep thine image still so dear,
As a sweet hallowed spell,—
An added link to that bright chain of love,
Which binds us to our better home above.
Not for thy rapture shed we grief's sad tear.
No, we would keep thine image still so dear,
As a sweet hallowed spell,—
An added link to that bright chain of love,
Which binds us to our better home above.
Meet was it that the hues
Of summer's lingering flowers should light thy way,
To those blest bowers whose hues know no decay.
Watered by heaven's own dews,
Thy Father's smile lights up the radiant bloom,
Which sheds o'er those bright realms its rich perfume.
Of summer's lingering flowers should light thy way,
To those blest bowers whose hues know no decay.
Watered by heaven's own dews,
Thy Father's smile lights up the radiant bloom,
Which sheds o'er those bright realms its rich perfume.
Rest in thy purity!
As the lost fragrance of the summer flower
Shall steal across our souls, at twilight's hour,
Thy cherished memory.
We will not grieve that thou hast earliest trod
The path which leads thee to thy Father, God.
As the lost fragrance of the summer flower
Shall steal across our souls, at twilight's hour,
Thy cherished memory.
We will not grieve that thou hast earliest trod
The path which leads thee to thy Father, God.
No! rather let the love
That once shed sunlight o'er our earthly way
Point us to thy bright rest, heaven's "perfect day."
In that sweet home above,
The only heritage which cannot fail,
Let us but meet,—beyond death's silent vale.
That once shed sunlight o'er our earthly way
Point us to thy bright rest, heaven's "perfect day."
In that sweet home above,
The only heritage which cannot fail,
Let us but meet,—beyond death's silent vale.
