Almost forgets there will be rest in Heaven.
Dear loved one sleeping—sympathy, oh, where?
Is there no one who will our sorrows share?
The flowing streamlet, and the murmuring rill,
In ocean find a kindred spirit still.
Do tears oft say, Oh! where is now thy God?
Submit to this and every chastening rod.
I’d calmly yield to every needed ill,
And learn to bear God’s visitation still.
Not unaccustomed to the galling yoke,