Yet we come and go at His will, who said
To the sea 'Be still!' and its waves obeyed.
"The air was still as we stayed our breath,
While the mother wept o'er her young child's death—
A fatherless child; 'twas peacefully laid,
So placid and calm, 'neath the curtain's shade.
Yet, pressing the clay to her throbbing breast,
'Oh! when,' she cried, 'will I be at rest?'
We sang for the child a requiem low,
And the mother's to sing on our way we go.