Page:Poems Smith.djvu/41

Death has for me no terrors;
 I long for coming day.
This world to me is dreary,
 My life is fading fast away.

I trust that He'll receive me
 At Heaven's golden gate:
I'll await on earth His bidding,
 Whate'er may be my fate.

When life becomes so cheerless,
 Without one ray of light,
And know we're drifting onward,
 Unto the darker night.

But a voice is whispering ever—
 "Press onward, stricken heart!
There's rest for you in Heaven,
 From every grief you'll part."

That kind and gentle stranger
 Who would prepare the way,—
May I meet her in Heaven
 At no far distant day.