Part 12 (2/2)

Yet soon his hands fell helplessly, Low at his trembling side; For on his brow the death drops rose, While in his heart the life-blood froze And died his young life's pride.

The dark brown eyes, whose loving glance Gave happiness to all, Have closed their weary lids for aye Beneath the sunset of life's day, Where dark'ning shadows fall.

Oh, weary years that still creep on Adown the sands of Time, Give back the loving tones of yore, That haunt us here forever more As echoing church bell's chime.

And yet it cannot, cannot be That hearts must ever grieve; Above his head the shadows fall, Yet still the sunbeams s.h.i.+ne through all And mystic splendors weave.

And thus upon the grieving heart That ever weeps for him, The dark clouds fall, yet G.o.d's sweet light Of faith still onward takes its flight, Through shadows vast and grim.

Oh! faint heart, with thy clinging grief, Look upward to the sky; For there, beyond the weary strife, Where angels ever guard thy life, There's One who hears thy cry.

Within the ”City of the Dead”

He only lies asleep; And soon his hand will clasp once more Thine own as oft he did of your, With love's pure feeling deep.

Beyond the Sunset are the Hills of G.o.d.

Gleaming folds of read and gold linger in the western sky; Fleecy clouds of purest tint, mingle with the purple dye.

Faintly to the dreamy mind comes the sound of earthly life; Far beyond the s.h.i.+ning banks, cometh rest from worldly strife.

Through the sunset's misty veil, now we look with longing eyes, To behold more beauteous sight than the evening's glor'ous skies.

Slowly now the red banks part, showing what is hidden there; Flus.h.i.+ng hills of shadowy light, piercing through the dark'ning air.

Like the rainbow's promise clear, G.o.d has placed His emblem there, Giving life and trust to all, love unbounded, rich and rare.

Glimpses of a life beyond come to each faint, weary heart, And we long for that bright sh.o.r.e where the loved ones ne'er shall part.

Strange, that souls should still live on, hopeless with their hidden pain; When, would they but read the skies, heaven and hope would come again.

Though the life be weary spent, evening brings the glory near; And beyond the sunset's glow, grand the hills of G.o.d appear.

Never.

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