Till hues of faith shall gild the gloom,
And every sigh’s forgiven.
Then, when the golden harvest’s done,
The path of duty trod,
Thou with the loved may’st garnered be,
And gathered home to God.
1828. E. P. K.
“And the laughter of the young and gay
Was far too glad and loud.”
Hush, hush! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss;