Classic Poem

No! though the grave hath claimed our best,
No! though the green sprigs mark his rest,
Weeping we cry with chastened faith,
Trust in the Lord, and conquer death.

No! though a seat is vacant here,
No! though his voice no more may cheer,
Upward we cast the eye of love,
Lost to the earth, but sale above.

How through long years of wasting pain
Bright burned his soul and fired his brain;
In this dear place he loved to be —
Here keep his name eternally.

Brethren, be strong, for life's demand
Boldly endure and bravely stand;
From his bright life example take —
From his blest grave let hopes awake.