While To The Grave Our Friends Are Borne
While to the grave our friends are borne,
Around their cold remains
How all the tender passions mourn,
And each fond heart complains!
But down to earth, alas! in vain
We bend our weeping eyes,
Ah! let us leave these seats of pain,
And upwards learn to rise.
Hope cheerful smiles amid the gloom,
And beams a healing ray;
And guides us from the darksome tomb,
To realms of endless day.
To those bright courts when hope ascends,
She calms the swelling wo;
In hope we meet our happy friends,
And tears forget to flow.
Then let our hearts repine no more,
That earthly comfort dies;
But lasting happiness explore,
And ask it from the skies.