But their tired feet are no longer as light
As in days of the long, long past,
And their youthful tresses have turned to white
With the snows, and the wintry blast.
Now hand in hand, they stand by the shore
Of a river dark and wide;
And the songs which the seraphs are wafting o'er,
They catch from the other side.
And their faces beam with unearthly light,
In the rays of the setting sun,