O, there was sunshine in her smile,
And music in her dancing feet,
And every tender, artless wile,
Made her dear presence seem more sweet;
But ever in her childish play,
A strange, unfathomed mystery lay.
Her playmates—well, we could not see
That which our darling Lily saw—
But often in her childish glee,
She filled our loving hearts with awe,
When, pointing to the viewless air,
She told us of the Angels there.
“O, very beautiful!” she said,
“And very gentle are they all;
At night they watch around my bed,
And always answer to my call.
I asked to go with them one day,
But a tall angel told me nay.”
Yes—the “tall Angel” told her nay,
But it was only for a time;
We knew our Lily could not stay
Long in this uncongenial clime.
Into their home of love and light
The Angels led her from our sight.
They led her from the earth away,
Into the blesséd “summer-land,”
Leaving to us her form of clay,
With budding lilies in the hand;
An emblem of her life, to be
Unfolded in Eternity.
O, though there falls a gloom like night
From Sorrow’s overshadowing wing,
How often does returning light
A ray of heavenly brightness bring,
And problems that were dark before
Can vex the soul with doubt no more.
Beneath that heavy cloud we stood,
Through which no ray of gladness stole,
But well we knew that Sorrow’s flood
Would cleanse and purify the soul;
And when its ministry should cease,
Our lives would blossom fair with peace.
One evening, when the summer moon
With silver radiance filled the sky,
And through the fragrant flowers of June
The balmy breeze sighed dreamily,
With spirits calm and reconciled,
We talked of our dear Angel child.
We spoke of her we loved so well,
As one who only went before—
When lo! just where the moonlight fell
With mellow lustre on the floor,
We saw our own sweet darling stand,
With half-blown lilies in her hand.
She seemed more beautiful and fair
Than when a simple child of earth;
The golden glory in her hair
Betokened her celestial birth;
But as she sweetly looked and smiled,
We knew she was our own dear child.