POEMS.
83
OUR LITTLE RAYMOND.
Our baby-love is sleeping
In his little casket-bed.
Do not grieve,—stop weeping:
Leave him resting with the dead.
Flowers bloom around his pillow;
Their fragrance fill his bed.
Our hearts are grieved with sorrow,
For the dear one lying dead.
Their fragrance fill his bed.
Our hearts are grieved with sorrow,
For the dear one lying dead.
Little angels now forever,
In their home in Heaven above;
To meet on earth again never,
But trust in heavenly love.
In their home in Heaven above;
To meet on earth again never,
But trust in heavenly love.
Mother, thy budding flower
God has called away
To dwell in his beautiful bower,
Resting in Heaven to-day.
God has called away
To dwell in his beautiful bower,
Resting in Heaven to-day.
Oh, who would live forever
In this fleeting world of sin?
Our home is waiting ever,
And God will take us in.
In this fleeting world of sin?
Our home is waiting ever,
And God will take us in.
