  They called her, from the better land, And one bright spirit led the way; She saw the angel’s beckoning hand, And felt she could no longer stay. O white-robed Peace! thy gentle cross Gave to her trusting heart no pain, And that which is our earthly loss, Is unto her, eternal gain. “God is a Spirit”—we can trust That she has left earth’s shadows dim, And laid aside her earthly dust, To grow in likeness unto Him. “God is a Spirit”—“God is Love”— And closely folded to his breast, Her spirit, like a tender dove, Shall in His love securely rest. O, it was meet that flower-wreathed Spring, With forms of living beauty rife, Should see the perfect blossoming Of this bright spirit into life. The flowers will bloom upon her grave, The holy stars look down at night, But where bright palms immortal wave, She will rejoice in cloudless light. O, sweeter than the breath of flowers, Or dews that summer roses weep, Deep in these loving hearts of ours Her blessÉd memory we will keep. Bright spirit, let thy light be given, With tender and celestial ray, Beaming like some pure star from heaven, To guide us in our earthly way. Clad in thine immortality, E’en now we hear thee joyful sing— “O Grave, where is thy victory! O Death, where is thy sting!” Pass on, sweet spirit, to increase In every bright, celestial grace, Till in the land of love and peace, We meet thee, dear one, face to face. |
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