Our youth is transient like a flower,
That blooms, and fades, and dies;
Our life is but a summer cloud,
And like a shadow flies;
Then let us heed the warning voice�
Today its call we hear,
It speaks in deep and solemn tones,
That come from yonder bier.The angel messenger of
death,
Has gently borne away,
A dear companion from our side,
To realms of endless day;
Her voice no more will join with ours
The song of praise below,
It wakes a purer, sweeter strain,
Where only pleasures flow.
When gathered on the Sabbath morn,
Her vacant place we view,
We�ll think how bright the world she treads,
And in her steps pursue;
Be still, let every heart be still,
And all our sorrow quell,
We�ll bow submissive to His will,
Who doeth all things well. |
