Poems (Hornblower)/Funeral Hymn

by Jane Elizabeth Roscoe Hornblower

FUNERAL HYMN.

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Pour your tears, pour your tears
O'er the loved of many years;
Count his many virtues o'er,
Pour your fond tears—fondly pour!

God hath sent them for relief.
In your deep and sudden grief;
And his angel hears on high
Every drop that dims your eye.

Your beloved hath his abode
On the bosom of his God,
And hath left ye yet below,
Struggling on through toil and woe.

Bright forms flit amid the gloom,
Guardians of that new-made tomb:
Yet more dear to Him the sigh
Breathed from human sympathy.

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.

Beyond those radiant spheres he stands,
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.

It may not be—yet blissful trust
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.

Go seek it in the hallowed book.
On its calm heavenly pages look;
And soothed, and comforted, and blest,
There shall thy wearied heart find rest.