sorrow not as those without hope.
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"SORROW NOT AS THOSE WITHOUT HOPE."
When called around the bed of death,To catch the last expiring breath;When breathed upon the listening ear,The tone that calls it hence we hear;We bow reluctant to the rod,And, sorrowing, yield the soul to God.
For as the radiant hues of heavenGlow brightest at the hour of even;As music sheds a holier lay,When soft its numbers die away;So love's undying splendors beam,Reflected in life's parting stream.
But as we bend around the bed,Where life's young pilgrims bow the head,Can we not hear the Master's tone,Breathed to his followers alone,"Sorrow ye not as those who seeNo star of hope their guide to be."
Mourn ye not those whose steps have trodThe mansions of their Father, God.Though life was one bright summer's day,Fearless they trod death's narrow way.It led them through decay and gloom,To bowers where fadeless glories bloom.
