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8,8,7,8,8,7

GOING HOME.

"But I would not have you to be ignomut, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope."--1 Thess. 4:13.

"Unser Lieben sind geschleden."

Lange.

transl., Sarah Findlater, 1855

Our beloved have departed,

While we tarry broken-hearted,

In the dreary, empty house;

They have ended life's brief story,

They have reached the home of glory,

Over death victorious!

Hush that sobbing, weep more lightly,

On we travel, daily, nightly,

To the rest that they have found.

78

Are we not upon the river,

Sailing fast to meet for ever,

On more holy, happy ground?

Whilst with bitter tears we're mourning,

Thought to buried loves returning,

Time is hasting us along,

Downward to the grave's dark dwelling,

Upward to the fountain welling

With eternal life and song!

See ye not the breezes hieing?

Clouds along in hurry flying?

But we haste more swiftly on--

Ever changing our position,

Ever tossed in strange transition--

Here to-day, to-morrow gone!

Every hour that passes o'er us

Speaks of comfort yet before us,

Of our journey's rapid rate;

And like passing vesper-bells,

The clock of time its chiming tells,

At eternity's broad gate.

On we haste, to home invited,

There with friends to be united

In a surer bond than here;

Meeting soon, and met for ever!

Glorious hope! forsake us never,

For thy glimmering light is dear.

79

Ah! the way is shining clearer

As we journey ever nearer

To the everlasting home.

Friends, who there await our landing,

Comrades, round the throne now standing,

We salute you, and we come!

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