Which falls upon the loved one's bier.
Tears are the antidote of grief,—
Kind nature sends them for relief.
While death a prisoner Lazarus kept,
The Son of God stood by and wept;—
And, father, here are tears for thee,
The babe that prattled on thy knee,
And grew in beauty by thy side,
Till warm affection's glowing tide
Gushed from the fountain in thy breast,