Neither care nor sorrow now Leaves its trace upon their brow, Nor can pain them more molest, For there waves The green grass thickly o'er their breast, On their graves.
Little flowers their heads begem, But they cannot look at them, For death's cold hand their eyes have prest, And there waves The green grass thickly o'er their breast On their graves.
Winds sigh through the shadowing trees, Summer brings the hum of bees; But no sounds can their ears invest, Where there waves The green grass thickly o'er their breast On their graves.
Still they lie in their low beds, To sleep till the last morn sheds Its light upon their place of rest: Now there waves The green grass thickly o'er their breast On their graves.
GOD bless thee! is my fervent prayer, At morn and eve, from day to day, Ev'n as thou tend'st, with anxious care, Thy children dear with love alway.
God keep thee ever in His grace, And still new mercies on thee shower, Ev'n as thou fold'st in thy embrace Thine infants tender every hour.
God love thee, with the love he shows Still to his own, in earth and heaven, Ev'n as thou lov'st, with true love, those Who to thy keeping have been given.
God guide thee still through all thy days, And let no evil on thee light, Ev'n as thou guid'st and guard'st the ways, Of thy dear offspring day and night.
God comfort thee in all thy grief, And ever thy sure Hope remain, Ev'n as thou comfort'st with relief Thy little ones in woe and pain.
God cherish thee throughout thy life, In weal and woe thy guardian be, Ev'n as a mother and a wife Thou still hast cherished them and me.
OH! what a thing is health to lose, And what a prize to gain, Most valued when the spirit woos Its coming back again.
After long days and restless nights, Reclined on weary bed, How sweet when first its blessing lights Upon the aching head.
Its coming turns the life, as doth The ocean with its tide, Or as the spring renews the growth Of what Earth's stores provide.
Power, fame, and with them cherished gold, That form man's constant aim, All would be gladly overtold Its halcyon bliss to claim.
It passes life and death between, From heaven's own portals borne, Like the sweet under-light scarce seen That parts the night from morn.