Classic Poem

It is not Death — it is not Death,
From which I shrink with coward fear;
It is that I must leave behind
All I love here.

It is not Wealth — it is not Wealth,
That I am loath to leave behind;
Small store to me (yet all I crave)
Hath fate assigned.

It is not Fame — it is not Fame,
From which it will be pain to part;
Obscure my lot; but mine was still
An humble heart.

It is not Health — it is not Health,
That makes me fain to linger here;
For I have languished on in pain
This many a year.

It is not Hope — it is not Hope,
From which I cannot turn away;
O, earthly Hope has cheated me
This many a day!

But there are Friends — but there are Friends,
To whom I could not say " Farewell, "
Without a pang more hard to bear
Than tongue can tell.

But there's a thought — but there's a thought
Will arm me with that pang to cope;
Thank God! we shall not part like those
Who have no hope.

And some are gone — and some are gone —
Methinks they chide my long delay —
With whom, it seemed, my very life
Went half away.

But we shall meet — but we shall meet —
Where parting tears shall never flow;
And, when Ithink thereon, almost
I long to go.

The Savior wept — the Savior wept
O'er him he loved — corrupting clay!
But then He spake the word, and Death
Gave up his prey!

A little while — a little while —
And the dark Grave shall yield its trust;
Yea, render every atom up
Of human dust.

What matters then — what matters then —
Who earliest lays him down to rest?
Nay, " to depart, and be with Christ "
Is surely best.