Let thy sweet spirit in our hearts forevermore abide.
Help its to scatter deeds of love in all the paths we tread;
For blessing thus our fellow-men, we honor Christ our head.
Lines
On the death of William M. Smith.
Dark is the hour when Death prevails,
And triumphs o’er the just—
A painful void within the breast,
When dust goes back to dust;
And solemn is the pall, the bier,