The Ministration of Sorrow
THERE’S sorrow in thy heart to-day,
There’s sadness on thy brow;
For she, the loved, hath passed away,
And thou art mourning now.
The eye that once did sparkle bright,
The hand that pressed thine own,
No more shall gladden on thy sight,—
Thy cherished one hath flown.
And thou didst love her well, ’t is true;
Now thou canst love her more,
Since she hath left this world, and you,
On angel wings to soar
Above the world, its ceaseless strife,
Its turmoil and its care,
To enter on eternal life,
And reign in glory there.
O, let this thought now cheer thy soul,
And bid thy tears depart;
A few more days their course shall roll,
Thou ‘lt meet, no more to part.
No more upon thine ear shall fall,
The saddening word “farewell”
No more a parting hour, but all
In perfect union dwell.
This world is not the home of man;
Death palsies with its gloom,
Marks out his life-course but a span,
And points him to the tomb;
But, thanks to Heaven, ’t is but the gate
By which we enter bliss;
Since such a life our spirits wait,
O, cheer thy soul in this,—
And let the sorrow that doth press
Thy spirit down to-day
So minister that it may bless
Thee on thy pilgrim way;
And as thy friends shall, one by one,
Leave earth above to dwell,
Say thou to God, “Thy will be done,
Thou doest all things well.”