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Never o'er my infant head
Came the shades of doubt or fear;
Brightly my young morning fled,
Till an angel called me here.
Came the shades of doubt or fear;
Brightly my young morning fled,
Till an angel called me here.
Brief the summons—oh! my mother!
Were it not for leaving thee,
These are blissful scenes—far other
Than the dreams of infancy.
Were it not for leaving thee,
These are blissful scenes—far other
Than the dreams of infancy.
Thou art mourning—thou art pale—
How shall I of comfort tell?
O! that I could rend the veil,
And could show thee where I dwell.
How shall I of comfort tell?
O! that I could rend the veil,
And could show thee where I dwell.
I, amid the cherub host,
Now surround a Father's throne;
All I loved on earth the most
Soon will be again my own.
Now surround a Father's throne;
All I loved on earth the most
Soon will be again my own.
Dearest mother! weep no more,
Tears like these would shade my bliss,
If on this immortal shore
There could be unhappiness.
Tears like these would shade my bliss,
If on this immortal shore
There could be unhappiness.
