Classic Poem

Yes , " fell asleep, " — but sleep implies two wakings
One in the weary past, one, yet to be;
One in this life of labor and heart-breakings,
One in the bliss of immortality.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — tired watch no longer keeping,
With ever restless hands and busy brain;
All sorrow past, — no grief, no sigh, no weeping,
Like a sweet summer evening, after rain.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — no more with dim surmising,
Questioning what may be the life to come;
She feels, in the freed spirit's glad uprising,
Joy, peace, rest, grandeur, glory, heaven, home.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — we watch for her low breathing,
Like fragrant night-winds floating gently by;
Like noiseless clouds of incense, upward wreathing,
Her spirit, silent, points us to the sky.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — the touch of those dear fingers
Created life and beauty where it fell;
Around her cherished works her spirit lingers,
Like strains of music o'er the quivering shell.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — so early quenched life's fever,
So brilliant promise clouded o'er so soon;
Faith, be thou strong; God's purpose faileth never;
Earth had the radiant morning; heaven, the noon.

Man gathers heaps of ore, a grasping miner,
Toiling and burdened through the scorching day,
But sleeps at last; and God, the great Refiner,
Saves all the gold, and melts the dross away.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — just as the curious kernel
Of flower-life hides within the rigid grain;
But, with the warm breath of the season vernal,
It waves luxuriant o'er the fields again.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — resting in God's safe keeping.
So hides the worm within his narrow cell,
But bursts his chrysalis, and, heavenward leaping,
Shining, proclaims that God does all things well.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — O rest divine, immortal!
Knowing nor pain, nor grief, nor death, nor sin;
Rest that conveys the soul to heaven's high portal,
And bids the weary wanderer enter in.

Yes, " fell asleep, " — O mystery past our knowing!
Beyond thick clouds we cannot see the sun;
But patient, trustingly, we wait Heaven's showing,
'T is God's own hand, — thy will, O Lord, be done.