Who wonder in the quiet, darkened home,
Why their glad-voiced papa will never come.

So in his home beside the terraced mountain,
They sit within the shadow of his death;
So they who were the tardy moments counting,
Till he would come to them with summer's breath.
His kith and kin by the Maine water's side,
Weep very sore for love of him that died.

Oh Death is ever coming, loved ones going,
Hearts rent with sorrow because one is not;
The waves of trouble ever swelling, flowing,
Past the tall castle, past the sheltered cot!
"I am bereaved!" is the unceasing moan,
Rising forever to our Father's throne.

O Christ Thou dost remember earthly weeping,
When the bereaved at Thy dear feet have cried,
Beside the grave where the much loved lay sleeping,
"Lord if Thou hadst been here he had not died."
Comfort the mourning friends, the sorrowing wife,
O Thou the Resurrection and the life!




FAREWELL