And one dear spirit hovering by my side,
Hath o’er my form its snow-white wings unfurled,
It is a token that when death is nigh,
It then will wait to hear my soul on high!"
What afflicted heart will not respond with deep and grateful emotion, to the following beautiful address of a bereaved pilgrim to his sainted loved ones in heaven:—
"Gone!—have ye all then gone,—
The good, the beautiful, the kind, the dear?
Passed to your glorious rest so swiftly on,
And left me weeping here?
"I gaze on your bright track;