Peace to the dead! The forest weaves,

Around your couch, its shroud of leaves;

While shadows dim and silence deep,

Bespeak the quiet of your sleep.

Rest, pilgrim, here! Your journey o'er,

Life's weary cares ye heed no more;

Time's sun has set, in yonder west—

Your work is done—rest, Pilgrim, rest!

Rest till the morning hour; wait

Here, at Eternity's dread gate,

Safe in the keeping of the sod,

And the sure promises of God.

Dark is your home—yet round the tomb,

Tokens of hope—sweet flowerets bloom;

And cherished memories, soft and dear,

Blest as their fragrance, linger here!

We speak, yet ye are dumb! How dread

This deep, stern silence of the Dead!

The whispers of the Grave, severe,

The listening Soul alone can hear!