BIRDS will pipe another spring
Songs we shall not hear,
Ancient Sabbath-bell will ring
Vainly for our ear.

Never more with willing feet
To its calling shall we meet,
Never more on summer's day
All together sing and pray.

On our hearths will fires burn
To which we shall not return
Homeward when the nights grow cold,
As we did in days of old.

Here we leave our cradle's corner,
Here likewise we leave a grave,
Within which, a tir'd sojourner,
One of us a rest will crave.

Unforgotten, unforgetting,
Footsteps faltering and slow,
Uncheck'd tears our eyelids wetting,
To another home we go.

Hoping on, and ever hoping,
Fill'd with solemn trust alway;
With all evil bravely coping,
Move we forward--God our stay.