Shed by affection o’er a parent’s bier!
More blest than dew on Hermon’s brow that falls,
Each drop to life some latent virtue calls,
Awakes some purer hope, ordain’d to rise,
By earthly sorrow strengthen’d for the skies;
Till the sad heart, whose pangs exalt its love,
With its lost treasure, seeks a home—above.
But grief will claim her hour,—and He whose eye
Looks pitying down on nature’s agony,
He, in whose love the righteous calmly sleep,