Gone to God
Of a bosom calmed to rest;Laid aside the heavy sorrows,
That for years upon it prest.
All the hunger of the heart;All the vain and tearful cryings,
All forever now depart.
O'er the cold and lifeless form;They shall never shrink and shiver,
Homeless in the dark and storm.
O'er the eyelids in their sleep;They shall tremble from them,
They shall never wake to weep.
Close the silent lips together
Lips once parted with a sigh;Through their sealed, moveless portals,
Ne'er shall float a bitter cry.
Bring no bright and blooming flowers,
Let no mournful tears be shed,Funeral flowers, tears of sorros,
They are for the cherished dead.
Drifting on the world's highway;Grasping with her woman's nature,
Feeble reed to be her stay.
Of a heart that's all alone;Floating blindly on life's current,
Only bound unto His throne.
But o'er such, Death's solemn angel
Broodeth with a sheltering wing;Till the hopeless hand's grown weary;
Cease around earth's toys to cling.
Then kind hands will elasp them gently,
On the still, unaching breast;Softly treading by, they'll whisper,
Of the lone one gone to rest.