Do sainted spirits come from Heaven to those
Whom they have loved on earth, to soothe their woes?
See! o’er her face how spreads a kindling ray,
She, who must tread alone her weary way.
But oft in secret hours her tears must flow,
For sweet are tears to hearts o’ercharged with wo.
Well, pour them freely forth, they end with night,[1]
Bright joy stands waiting for the morning light.
A little longer now, and all is won;
Thou hast till break of day to struggle on.