Release.
I sometimes wish that hour were come
When, lying patient on my bed,
My soul should view her future home
With eager, trembling wings outspread
And earnest faith; that age and pain
Should pass at death's divine behest,
As the freed captive leaves his chain
When he has ceased to be the guest
Of prisons—on the dungeon floor
A burden dropped for evermore.
Eternal joy, eternal youth,
Await beyond that portal gray—
Which all must pass that hope for truth—
The lonely spirit freed from clay;
But suffering only bids us yearn
For that mysterious, strange release
Which through the grave, the funeral urn,
Brings such infinitude of peace.
Oh! in that dread, ecstatic hour
Uphold me, Saviour, with thy power.