Then rose the sacred hymn in blended tones,
By Bertha's parlor-organ made intense
In melody of praise, and fervent Prayer
Set its pure crown upon the parted day,
And kiss'd the Angel, Sleep.
Yet ere they rose
From bended knee, there was a lingering pause,
A silent orison for one whose name
But seldom pass'd their lips, though in their hearts
His image with its faults and sorrows dwelt,