Must remain what we have made it, the insignia of the brave;
Precious, speaking of the partings that have sanctified the past,
Holy—for the great reunion we are looking to at last.
Can we, dare we, be despondent, should we hear the midnight call?
Would we shun the gracious welcome, with its day of rest for all?
Nay! a clearer light is dawning when each trusting soul shall seem
Like a vessel gently gliding homeward, heavenward, with the stream.
Honor's meed of fragrant blossoms brightly blooming o'er the dead,
Marks the dear, familiar pathway that their feet were wont to tread;
They are waiting, as are many in this world so sweet and fair,