Why, lovely insect, dost thou stand,
And wave thy quiv'ring wing,
As, half afraid thou wert, aloft
On fields of air to spring?

But now has reach'd thy slender form
A sunbeam warm and bright,
And instant thou hast upward sprung
Towards the source of light.

Thus in the portals of the tomb,
The trembling soul shall stand,
Till beams of faith and mercy point
Its way to the promised land.

The land of peace! the land of love!
Where sorrow is unknown,
And songs of joy for ever float
Around th' Almighty's throne!