How welcome is the voice from God, that speaks to us of rest!
O! painfully the pangs of life his fading frame have worn,
But blessed be our Father’s love, that dwells with those who mourn;
And though the grave must rend apart our sweet affection’s bond,
On this side is the night, but all is luminous beyond.
I know that more he loves my soul than its transitory shrine,
And did I prize the vase alone, when all it held was mine?
Let hallowed dust return to dust, give Nature what she gave,
For all that dearest was to me, is victor o’er the grave.
Triumphant will his spirit rise to the Eternal throne,