To that unknown, mysterious Refuge, where
The troubled rest—the weary toil no more!
Gently and painfully the “Essence” crept
From the o’ertasked clay, and all was still!
Dimmed eyes saw through their tears—the sufferer slept,
And stricken hearts throbbed with a grateful thrill.
As prayers went up, hope-laden, to the throne
Of the Omnipotent! All vain! All vain!
Death hath already one more life-blade mown!
Rise, lone ones, see! kneel! kneel and pray again!