A Voice From Mount Hermon
Dedicated to Mrs. Baines, by Mrs. A. Campbell
My dust lies sleeping here,
Mother dear!
In this, far off distant land,
Away from your little band,
And the touch of loving hand,
Your boy lies sleeping here,
Mother dear!
The Ocean rolls between
Mother dear!
You and your own boy’s grave,
And the distant rush of waves
On the pebbly shore to lave,
Is the requiem sung between,
Mother dear!
Mine is a sweet green spot.
Mother dear!
And the song of the bird
Is ever heard
In the trees that gird
Us, in this quiet spot
Mother dear!
And echo answers here
Mother dear!
The tinkle of chapel bell,
And the murmur of its knell
And the mourners “It is well,’
Echo answers here,
Mother dear!
To picture my last home,
Mother dear!
I am laid me down to rest,
Where “Our Father” saw ’twas best,
In this quiet little nest,
For my last home,
Mother dear!
And my spirit is with Him,
Mother dear!
In the precious home above,
Where all is light and love,
There rests your own dear dove,
Now with Him,
Mother dear!
Through Jesus’ blood I’m here,
Mother dear!
In this happy, heavenly land,
One of a glorious band,
Touched by His healing hand,
Through Jesus I am here,
Mother dear!
So dry that bitter tear,
Mother dear!
’Twill not be very long
Ere with Jesus you’ll sing the song,
Sung by those who to Him belong,
And wipe that bitter tear—
Mother dear!