Poems (Hale)/"Sorrow not as those without hope"

by Mary Whitwell Hale

"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 heaven
Glow 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 see
No star of hope their guide to be."

Mourn ye not those whose steps have trod
The 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.

No tear of grief shall dim their eye;
Their anguished heart shall heave no sigh:
Sin shall not check their grateful prayer;
Nor error cloud the day-beam there:
But joy's rich fountain-stream shall flow,
And love's sweet ray unclouded glow.

Then let the eye no longer weep;
God shall those vanished treasures keep,
To dwell, as gems of life and light,
For aye within His watchful sight.
There shall we meet, life's trials o'er,
Our loved, our lost, to part no more.