The Parting Hour
There’s something in the parting hour
Will chill the warmest heart,
Yet kindred, comrades, lovers, friends,
Are fated all to part.
But, this I’ve seen, and many a pang has pressed it on my mind,
The one who goes is happier than those he leaves behind.
No matter what the journey be,
Adventurous, dangerous, far;
To the wild bleak or deep frontier,
To solitude or war;
Still fortune cheers the heart that dares, in all of human kind,
And those who go are happier than those they leave behind.
The bride goes to the bridegroom’s home
With doubtings and with tears,
But, does not Hope her rainbow spread
Across her cloudy fears?
Alas! the mother who remains, what comfort can she find, but this:
The one that’s gone is happier than the one she leaves behind.
Have you a friend, a comrade dear,
An old and valued friend?
Be sure your term of sweet concourse
At length must have an end;
And when you part, as part you will, oh! take it not unkind,
If he, who goes, is happier than you he leaves behind.
God wills it so! and so it is;
The Pilgrims on their way,
Though weak and worn, more cheerful are
Than all the rest who stay.
And when at last, poor man, subdued, lies down to death resigned,
May he not still be happier far than those he leaves behind?