Within that realm of ceaseless praise and song:
Its tossing billows break and melt in foam,
Far from the mansions of the spirit-throng.
4 No parted friends
O’er mournful recollections have to weep!
No bed of death enduring love attends,
To watch the coming of a pulseless sleep.
5 No blasted flower
Or withered bud celestial gardens grow!
No scorching blast or fierce descending shower