TO MY MOTHER.
Awake, fond heart, to life again,
For why should sorrow ever
Enshroud the past with endless pain,
Cause bitter tears to flow in vain
For those passed o’er the river?
The dead are gone—they ne’er return,
Life’s troubles here are ended;
And though to see them back we yearn,
Christ’s teachings lead us to discern
’Tis not what God intended.
Who can the curtain thrust aside,
Or gaze through Death’s dark portals?
Short space on earth doth each abide,
Then comes his call to swell the tide,
Whose waves are dying mortals.
We all must die, mayhap this night
Our souls are drifting thither,
Where those dear loved ones lost to sight
Await us there in glory bright,
Across the shining river.