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347.

L. M.

Sarah F. Adams.

The Angel at the Tomb.
277

The mourners came, at break of day,

Unto the garden sepulchre,

With saddened hearts to weep and pray

For him, the loved one, buried there.

What radiant light dispels the gloom?

An angel sits beside the tomb.

The earth doth mourn her treasures lost,

All sepulchred beneath the snow,

When wintry winds and chilling frost

Have laid her summer glories low;

The spring returns, the flow’rets bloom,—

An angel sits beside the tomb.

Then mourn we not beloved dead,

E’en while we come to weep and pray;

The happy spirit hath but fled

To brighter realms of heavenly day;

Immortal hope dispels the gloom;—

An angel sits beside the tomb.

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