Classic Poem

He has gone from our midst for ever,
He's naught but a mem'ry now,
There's grief in a loving household,
There's pain on a parent's brow.

There is sorrowing in the nation
From the humblest to the crown,
For a strong hand reft of cunning,
For a brave heart weary grown.

And the many hearts are aching
Because of the great heart stilled,
Nor yet is God's purpose shaken,
Nor his promise unfulfilled.

For one who has walked the waters
Went out to him o'er the sea,
And whispered, “oh faithful servant,
Abide now in peace with me.”

And a fair and a radiant morrow
Will greet him in perfect day,
Far out of the reach of sorrow,
Far up from the shadows grey.

He has worked life's shift and truly,
His Maker will weigh the gold,
To find that his steward's talent
Has come back a thousandfold.

And tho' will his hand not meet us,
'Twill help in life's toil and strain
'Twill quickly come out to greet us
When we look in his eyes again.