566. L. M. Bryant.

"Blessed are they that mourn."

1Deem not that they are blessed alone,

Whose days a peaceful tenor keep;

The God, who loves our race, has shown

A blessing for the eyes that weep.

2The light of smiles shall fill again

The lids that overflow with tears,

And weary hours of woe and pain

Are earnests of serener years.

3O, there are days of sunny rest

For every dark and troubled night!

Grief may abide, an evening guest,

But joy shall come with early light.

4And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier

Sheddest the bitter drops like rain,

Hope that a brighter, happier sphere

Will give him to thy arms again.

5For God hath marked each anguished day,

And numbered every secret tear;

And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay

For all his children suffer here.

Farewell to a Friend Departed.

1Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee;

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb;

The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee;

And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.

2Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee,

Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side:

But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee,

And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath died.

3Thou art gone to the grave; and, its mansion forsaking,

Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long;

But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking,

And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's song.

4Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee;

Since God was thy Refuge, thy Guardian, thy Guide;

He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee;

And death has no sting, since the Saviour hath died.