How oft happy homes are despoiled by the foe
Whose ravages fill the fond circle with woe-
Who tearfully bend with deep grief and dispair
O'er the couch of the dear ones-the youthful and
fair;
And bitterly mourn, in their anguish and gloom,
To see their heart's treasures go down to the tomb.
And now while the buds give sweet promise of
spring,
And glad notes are making the old forest ring-
While the free waters murmur and rivulets play,
The young and the cherished are fading away.
And
thou
, to whose memory these lines are inscribed,
Thou hast passed from our midst in thy youth's
glowing pride;
There are sorrowful tears 'mongst thy kindred to-day,
Because thou hast gone from their circle away,
But they trust thou art safe where sickness and
pain
Will never have power to distress thee again-
'Where rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns.'
In that fair happy land the flowers never fade,
While the Angels in beauty celestial arrayed,
Tune their harps in unceasing harmonious songs,
To the Saviour, to whom all honour belongs.
And while God in His providence speaks unto all,
May we give earnest heed to the loud warning call
To be ready, as we know not the hour nor the day
When we shall be called from our time-state away.