Thou art gone, my brother, from earth away,
To dwell in realms of endless day;
And the night-winds sigh and the flow'rets wave
Above thy lone and silent grave:
And we miss the sound of thy merry voice
That filled the house with such sweet noise:
Thy sunny smile and thy joyous mirth
Have passed for ever from the earth.
Thou art gone, my brother, to lands above,
Where all is peace and joy and love;
To bask in everlasting rays,
And hymn the great Eternal's praise:
Where a hand of love and pity dries
The sorrowful tears from weeping eyes:
Where thousands round the Saviour stand,
With crowns on head and harps in hand.
Thou art gone, my brother, to climes afar,
Where seraphs, saints, and angels are:
Where fruits and flowers immortal grow,
And silent streams of silver flow;
Where sweet sounds float on the balmy air,
Where all is pure and bright and fair;
Through the dark portals of the tomb
Thou hast passed to that land of bliss and bloom!
But although thou art gone, my brother dear,
Oh, say dost thou ever linger here?
Dost thou leave that land of joy and bliss
To visit the scenes of thy life in this?
Dost thou ever return to this lowlier earth,
And mix with the throng round our happy hearth?
Dost thou join in our sorrows and share our tears?
Dost thou calm our doubts and soothe our fears?
Ah yes! when we join our evening prayer,
Thou, bright spirit, art hovering there!
When we sing our nightly song of praise,
With a loving smile thou hear'st our lays:
And in the watches of the night
Thou art standing near with thy wings of light,
And we feel the glory that round thee beams,
And see thy face among our dreams.
And still wilt thou guide us until we stand
Upon the shores of that happy land;
Still wilt thou watch us by night and day,
Till calmly and gently we pass away;
Then, on thy shining pinions bright,
Thou wilt bear us to realms of love and light, —
And in those regions by angels trod.
We will dwell with thee — we will dwell with God.
To dwell in realms of endless day;
And the night-winds sigh and the flow'rets wave
Above thy lone and silent grave:
And we miss the sound of thy merry voice
That filled the house with such sweet noise:
Thy sunny smile and thy joyous mirth
Have passed for ever from the earth.
Thou art gone, my brother, to lands above,
Where all is peace and joy and love;
To bask in everlasting rays,
And hymn the great Eternal's praise:
Where a hand of love and pity dries
The sorrowful tears from weeping eyes:
Where thousands round the Saviour stand,
With crowns on head and harps in hand.
Thou art gone, my brother, to climes afar,
Where seraphs, saints, and angels are:
Where fruits and flowers immortal grow,
And silent streams of silver flow;
Where sweet sounds float on the balmy air,
Where all is pure and bright and fair;
Through the dark portals of the tomb
Thou hast passed to that land of bliss and bloom!
But although thou art gone, my brother dear,
Oh, say dost thou ever linger here?
Dost thou leave that land of joy and bliss
To visit the scenes of thy life in this?
Dost thou ever return to this lowlier earth,
And mix with the throng round our happy hearth?
Dost thou join in our sorrows and share our tears?
Dost thou calm our doubts and soothe our fears?
Ah yes! when we join our evening prayer,
Thou, bright spirit, art hovering there!
When we sing our nightly song of praise,
With a loving smile thou hear'st our lays:
And in the watches of the night
Thou art standing near with thy wings of light,
And we feel the glory that round thee beams,
And see thy face among our dreams.
And still wilt thou guide us until we stand
Upon the shores of that happy land;
Still wilt thou watch us by night and day,
Till calmly and gently we pass away;
Then, on thy shining pinions bright,
Thou wilt bear us to realms of love and light, —
And in those regions by angels trod.
We will dwell with thee — we will dwell with God.