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As thy grief bursts forth to God,
As thy fond lips press the sod,
Turn thy weeping eyes above,
To his own heaven of peace and love.
As thy fond lips press the sod,
Turn thy weeping eyes above,
To his own heaven of peace and love.
Beyond those radiant spheres he stands,
Amidst the bright immortal bands;
Th' unfading crown awaits his brow,
Yet even in bliss he looks below.
Amidst the bright immortal bands;
Th' unfading crown awaits his brow,
Yet even in bliss he looks below.
What seeks his gaze—he sees thee weep,
In anguish o'er his seeming sleep,
And fain,fain would give thee sign
Of joys eternal and divine.
In anguish o'er his seeming sleep,
And fain,fain would give thee sign
Of joys eternal and divine.
It may not be—yet blissful trust
Shall raise thy drooping thoughts from dust,
And holiest aspirations be
Thy pledge of immortality.
Shall raise thy drooping thoughts from dust,
And holiest aspirations be
Thy pledge of immortality.
Go read it in those shining skies,
In thine own heart's deep sympathies;
In the outpourings of that love,
Which death itself may not remove.
In thine own heart's deep sympathies;
In the outpourings of that love,
Which death itself may not remove.
